


Of Stars and Plebes

by Ruby_JW



Category: Kirk/Spock - Fandom, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, kirk/spock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:46:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby_JW/pseuds/Ruby_JW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James T. Kirk was not always the confident, swaggering Captain of the U.S.S Enterprise. Follow him as he makes his way through the halls of Starfleet Academy with his best friend Bones, through "the ecstasies, the miseries, the broken rules, the desperate chances, the glorious failures and the glorious victories" -- and lest we forget, an excruciatingly uptight Vulcan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Asian Beatle

“Jim!” the Southern drawl boomed down the spacious, bustling corridor. “Jim!”

“In here.” A muffled voice laced with anger and resignation sounded from the other side of a door. McCoy began weaving his way through the throngs of Starfleet plebe uniforms as though he were reciting a bizarre yet elaborate dance. He smacked his hand on the door before him a few times as scattered people eyed his behaviour curiously.

“Is this the one?”

“Yes . . . ”

“It isn’t opening!”

“Um, yeah. He has something shoved in the jamb.”

McCoy looked down in a mixture of wonder and disbelief at the PADD worked into the door jamb.

“He ruined a PADD just to trap you in a closet? My God man, what did you do?” McCoy grunted as he worked furiously to yank the PADD out of the jamb.

“I exist.” Jim said so bluntly that McCoy had to let out a spurt of laughter amidst going red in the face from trying to get the tech out of the door. “Are you getting me out of here or what? My first Xenobiology class is in half an hour.”

“I’m so sorry Jim, I’m tryin’-- It isn’t budging!”

“Cadet!” A stern, calm voice broke the air and McCoy immediately stopped what he was doing and stood at attention.

“Yes sir!” He responded automatically, and nearly capsized when a green tinted face and pointed ears filled his vision.

_Oh my Jesus. Oh my Jesus. Aliens really do work at Starfleet. Not a rumor. My first alien! Be cool. Act natural._

The slanted brows before him furrowed as coffee dark eyes took in the scene: a sweaty McCoy and a now defective PADD forcefully worked into the jamb of a janitorial closet. A slanted brow rose.

“You do realize this is Starfleet Academy and not a Terran high school?”

McCoy nearly fell down. _Was that sarcasm? . . . did . . . did aliens do sarcasm?_

“Yes sir. Allow me to explain myself. My friend is trapped in there, he has had trouble with a fellow petty officer -- ” McCoy silenced himself in awe as this sharp dressed elf used only one hand and in the most minimal of gestures, took the PADD out of the jamb as easily as if he were picking berries. McCoy didn’t realize his mouth was open until the alien gave him another brow of intrigue.

“Then my advice would be for your friend to get out of trouble with his fellow petty officer considering said officer is his superior.” The green tinged gentleman placed the tortured PADD against McCoy’s chest, prompting Leonard to take it.

“Yes, but -- ”

“And attain yourself a new work PADD, as your previous use of this one has proven to be most illogical and wasteful. Good day, cadet.” A curt inclination of head to indicate his leave, and the alien was gone. Jim stumbled out of the closet, sweaty and huffing.

“Was that seriously his advice? Get out of trouble with Finnegan? Well if it were that easy I wouldn’t be spending my lunch trapped in a janitor’s closet . . .”

“Jim you missed it!” McCoy hissed excitedly. “I think I just saw my first alien.”

“Seriously?” Jim’s eyes sparkled with interest, and McCoy’s expression changed suddenly upon taking in Kirk’s appearance.

“Jesus Jim, what did he do to you? Your glasses--”

“I know, I know--”

“We’ll have to run back to our dorm, they’re wrecked--”

“There’s no time, I have class now! I’ll go after it--”

“You won’t see a God damn thing on that board!”

“Can you not mother hen me right now? This morning has sucked so far. The least you could do is tell me what the alien looked like.”

“Are you sure? Jim, you look really rough. . .”

“Bones!”

“Alright!” McCoy tossed his hands up in frustration.

“So? Tell me what you saw! Did you know what species it was?”

“I’ve no clue in hot hell what he was besides a tight ass.” Leonard grumbled.

“Well perhaps I know what he was, give me a description. Be as accurate as possible, some of them have pretty minute differences--”

 “He looked like an Asian Beatle.” McCoy quipped immediately, and Jim doubled over with laughter, briefly holding the wall for support.

“Jesus Bones, watch what you say! The guy was your superior -- ”

“Seemed like a superior asshole to me . . .”

“Bones!”

“What? He had a stick up his ass! He acted like I was the one who got you in there in the first place. I don’t need his douchebag judgement--”

“What did he _look like_ I said?! My God . . .”

“Greenish. Pointed ears. His eyebrows tapered off like they were scared of his face – like he’d stood in the wind too long--”

“Jesus Christ Bones, never mind. Just keep your mouth closed. If anyone hears you we’ll be ejected from the academy.”

Bones put his two index fingers pointing up by his ears and adapted a stern look.

“This is Starfleet Academy, not a Terran high school!”

“Stop it, man!” Jim cackled, batting McCoy’s hands away from his ears. “Someone will see you. Just shut up and walk me to class, will you?”

“Well God knows you need an escort. Where the hell am I going to find you next? Worked into an air duct? Someone’s lunch box?”

“Do they even make those anymore?”

Leonard’s response was cut off from the corridor as the doors to the turbolift came to a close, carrying the boys to the third floor of Starfleet Academy.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2: Dumb Hot Mess

Jim was immensely grateful to find that he was still 15 minutes early for class, but apparently by Starfleet standards he might as well have been late. Free seats were sparse, and he begrudgingly had to choose a seat close to the front _. Great. Now the fucking prof is going to get one good first look at me and write me off as a dumb hot mess._

“Excuse me . . .” he heard a calm, polite voice to his left and turned his head without thinking.

And in all that lack of thinking he’d been doing on his way in, he realized he had parked himself right next to his first alien.

A tall, straight backed alien in a neat charcoal grey Starfleet uniform was looking back at him. His skin was a pristine, light olive with emerald undertones. His cheekbones were prominent and striking, curving up towards tapered, elegant ears. One slanted obsidian brow was arched prominently.  _Oh my God. It’s the Asian Beatle_. Bones had failed to inform Jim that the aforementioned character was intimidatingly beautiful.

Jim swallowed thickly and realized that this was perhaps one of the most appealing looking creatures he had ever set eyes upon. His palms were already sweating and his heart was making a steady go of trying to hammer its way out of his ribcage, because this was his first fucking encounter with an alien species. Happening right now, and he was slowly but surely dawning on the realization that to this lovely creature, he was probably currently looking . . . particularly less than appealing in contrast, courtesy of Finnegan. It was too late to sink underneath the desk and hide or start this over.

“Um . . .” Jim cleared his throat awkwardly and held out a sweltering hand of greeting. “Hi, I’m Jim.”

The alien looked down at the outstretched, sweaty hand with wide eyes, as if mutely disturbed or appalled by the gesture. Without returning it, the alien simply looked back up into Jim’s eyes and blinked.

“Your spectacles are damaged.”

And as quick as that, the spell was broken.

_Really? The first thing you say to someone?_  Kirk adapted a bland expression, agitated, and tossed his hands up as he let himself relax back into his chair. Well, that was that. You might get folks from all over the galaxy, but no matter what planet you hail from, there will always be the token assholes.

“Wow. Really? I mean, I had no idea my glasses were broken. You’re a freaking lifesaver.”

“I find your lack of observation alarming. They are distinctly compromised beyond the point of functioning reasonably--”

“It was sarcasm.” Jim responded dully, but internally he was amazed.  _Perhaps there is no such thing as sarcasm on his planet. But he has to be fucking with me, because I heard him fucking with McCoy earlier. What is he? This would be easier if I knew. I must be familiar with his species because they’re a member of the UFOP. No weird forehead, no pig snout, no antennae_ —

“Oh.” Was the mild response that caused Jim to look back at the alien seated beside him, and the expression on the face was blank for a moment. “My apologies. I still find human humor and colloquialisms to be an endless source of confusion. Why is it that your species bear a particular fondness for uttering phrases which contribute little or no substance to conversations?”

“Now wait just a damn minute. I am almost positive I heard you use sarcasm earlier when I was in the janitor’s closet--”

“That was you? Fascinating.”

“—and furthermore I believe I have just been insulted. In fact, I’m confident that you’ve just insulted the entirety of my--”

“I’m sorry gentlemen, has there been some mistake?” A voice at the front of the class sounded, causing the two leaning their heads in close to look forward promptly. “I was under the impression that I was to be the professor teaching this Xenobiology class. Have I received the right slot number, or is this your class to teach now?”

“I apologize professor.” Kirk blurted, flushing. “It’s my glasses, they broke on the way here. He was just checking if I was OK.”

“And are you OK, cadet? Is the drama of your life matinee ended, or do you need more of my class time to conclude it?”

Jim was so red by this point, his skin tone practically blended with his cadet uniform.

“Sir, I am beyond finished. I apologize for being disruptive.”

“Very good cadet.” The prof said curtly before glancing up briefly at the alien over a pair of glasses, tapping away impatiently at a PADD. “I expect this kind of behaviour from anyone else in the room, Spock, but not you.”

“Indeed.” The alien seated beside Jim responded. “You have my assurance that you shall not bear witness to it again in the future.”

Jim was floored _. The Starfleet professor knows this guy by name?! Who is this guy? How can he have this much cred at the Academy already?_

Jim spent the rest of the class as helpless as a baby seal on an ice pan. He couldn’t see a damn thing during the lecture, which wasn’t that big of a deal considering he couldn’t type notes anyway – he hadn’t wanted Bones to freak out even worse than he had, but it had actually been Jim’s PADD that Finnegan jammed in the doorway. He remained on the receiving end of curious or annoyed glances from both cadets and the prof for the rest of the class. He knew he had to look like a jackass, sitting there doing nothing but taking up space in a class in the world’s most prestigious Academy. What could he do? He simply couldn’t stand the idea of missing out on his first Xenobiology class, but in hindsight, it probably would have been for the best. That hour and a half proved to be one of the most awkward moments of his life, and he resisted audibly sighing with relief when they were dismissed. He shot out of his seat and embarrassedly flew out of that classroom as if it were about to detonate. A cool, clipped voice from behind him caused him to halt in the hallway.

“What are you doing here in Starfleet?” He looked over his shoulder to find Spock standing properly behind him, hands folded behind his back.  _Christ. It’s the Nazi Asian Beatle, here to finish me off._

“Excuse me?” Was all he could muster in response to such a blunt inquiry.

“I could not help but observe that you spent the entirety of Professor Vaidya’s lecture neglecting to read or record the material being provided. What is the relevance of your attendance if you do not intend to participate?”

Kirk felt as if the breath had gone out of the planet.  _Could a person really go out of their way to be this big of a dick?_ He attempted to level his breathing, and resisted the desperate urge to spin around and crack the guy in his snooty face. Slowly he met the prudent gaze.

“You know literally nothing about me, and clearly this day doesn’t rank highly for me. You’re just gonna throw that kind of attitude in a stranger’s face? What is your problem?”

“I know that you neither take notes nor read them in a class that thousands of students across the galaxy compete vehemently for seats to have the privilege to attend.”

“And how the hell do you think I got in? A fluke?” Jim hissed, getting in close. “How is any of this your business anyway?”

“You caused me to be reprimanded by my professor--”

“You.” Jim put a finger in Spock’s face. “You, talked to me first. If anything,  **you**  got  **me**  in trouble with Vaidya!”

Spock blinked.

“Your logic is sound. Yet that still does not explain why one would choose to spend currency on an academy lecture only to pay it no heed.” Kirk stared at Spock in wide-eyed disbelief for a moment before, to the alarm of Spock, he barked out a laugh.

“Jesus Christ. You know what?” Kirk sputtered, and Spock raised a brow, opening his mouth to respond to the strange question before Kirk interjected again. “I thought Finnegan was the worst thing I was going to have to deal with today, but unfortunately for me, it turned out to be you.”

Two thin, black eyebrows climbed high and disappeared into razor straight bangs as Kirk continued.

 “You are actually the first alien I have met in Starfleet, and quite frankly I’m disappointed. I have worked my ass off to get in to this academy. My mother had to work three jobs just to help me pay for this one semester so far and I worked two jobs in high school to pay the rest because I thought this place represented something I believe in. I thought Starfleet was about branching out and connecting with other cultures and species. It turns out it’s just like everywhere else: chalk full of people being assholes or looking down their noses judging you.”

There was a long, dead silence held for a moment between the static entities in the aftermath of Kirk’s intense rant as they stared each other down. Finally, Spock cleared his throat and responded.

“And may I enquire as to which category you deem me to be in?”

Kirk tore his mutilated glasses from his face, abruptly threw them into the trash next to Spock and gave him a level glare.

“Both.”

Spock watched in bewilderment as the golden haired cadet stormed down the corridor and disappeared into the hordes of Starfleet uniforms.


	3. Chapter 3: A Smart Ass as Usual

                Spock returned to his graduate chalet with the intention of meditating, but as was customary (though he would seldom admit such a thing freely), his human half was wracked with afterthought regarding the social encounter earlier. The individual known as Jim had surprised him-- Spock had initially written him off as an idiot. After all, the first thing Jim ever did was offer to make out with him in the middle of a Xenobiology lecture. Spock had been appalled by the gesture, staring at the open hand extended to him. The gall was beyond Spock’s comprehension.  Yet it was the heated exchange that had come afterward that left that kernel of something cold, something tumultuous in the pit of Spock’s gut.

The being still only to known to him as Jim had thrown off his day by being correct about something. Spock knew literally nearly nothing about him, aside from the fact that he was smart enough to be in Starfleet, was a human who was bullied by a character named Finnegan that had trapped him in a Janitor’s closet, and that he was named Jim.

Spock moved slowly about the room, lighting candles, and allowed himself to stare into the swaying flame.

The most important thing he knew about Jim was the most disturbing and endearing.

Jim reminded him of his mother.

He had discovered that Jim was very passionate and free with his speech, and in his anger he had been almost a caricature of his mother in one of her debates as she bristled against Sarek’s calm, cool wall of logic. Bearing witness to it had sent a dull ache of homesickness through his insides. He had recalled the memorable image in his mind of his mother tearfully waving at him, watching as he stalked away from his home on a mission to sign up for Starfleet.

Jim and him had something in common, something rare, and it was unfortunate that he had learned so via an argument. Jim was also passionate about Starfleet, about what it stood for -- what it promised if one were to graduate from the academy. To connect with other cultures, to step out onto the galactic stage and beyond, representing the fleet as the first figures who would make contact with other species.

As Jim had so heatedly announced, that was what he was at the academy for, and Spock shared in that truth. Jim had been the first individual he had met at Starfleet to confess this. Spock had heard a plethora of disappointing responses to the query: why are you in Starfleet?

My parents made me do it. It’s the most viable choice for the economy these days. I’m looking to make a great deal of money. It seemed like the natural progression for any engineer. Their retirement plan is amazing.

Jim was the only person to give him the answer he had always hoped to hear from other cadets.

It was . . . mildly disheartening. Like always, Spock had somehow managed to insult whatever human being he conversed with.

It was then that the screen typically housed in his ceiling began to slide down, indicating that he was receiving a live transmission. The screen showed it was being sent from Vulcan.  
Spock swept over and tapped the PADD on his coffee table to accept the transmission, then stood before the screen with hands folded behind his back, waiting as his mother’s smiling face encapsulated it.

He then raised the Vulcan salute.

“Good evening, mother.”

“Hi, Spock.” She grinned. “How’s it going?”

He looked dully upon her.

“Define “it”, and where is the destination to which it is “going”?”

Amanda shook her head with a smirk.

“All this time at the Academy surrounded by humans, you’d think you would have caught on to some of their customs by now.”

“I resent the thought, and attempt to avoid the erosion of my own culture by any means necessary.”

“You mean like staying trapped in this chalet, only talking to me outside of your superiors for work related reasons?”

“Why have you called, mother?” Spock inquired in a manner that resembled irritation – Amanda saw it, yet the average human might miss it. In all honesty, he would rather not let it be known that he was relieved to see her face. He hadn’t spoken with her since last week after Sarek had stumbled upon one of their conversations. It hadn’t ended well, and he hadn’t tried to call since.

“Oh, I don’t know. It might have something to do with the fact that you’re my child, on another planet, and I miss hearing your voice. I worry.”

“Needlessly.”

Amanda eyed him suspiciously, sitting back in her chair.

“Something is upsetting you.” She stated, and Spock’s eyes widened marginally.

“You are imposing human emotions upon me. I am a Vulcan. I do not--”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit.” She snickered, and Spock ran a hand through his bangs, turning away from the screen. He didn’t want her to see him grin, even if it was the slightest upturn of lips, or he’d never hear the end of it. He couldn’t help it sometimes. His mother’s candid manner of speech was often unpredictable and hysterical. “Don’t you turn your back on me, mister. I don’t care if you’re Jesus at Starfleet, I’m your mother.”

“Mother, there is no Jesus of Starfleet.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Like what’s eating you today.”  
“Eating? Mother--”

“Spock.” Amanda said firmly. “You know what I mean. We don’t have to do this every time. There’s no Vulcan police that’s going to beat down your door every time you neglect to correct me for a colloquialism.”

“That does not excuse your reckless dismantling of a language--”

“SPOCK!” Amanda snapped, and he fell silent. “Stop being a smartass. Your mother has heat stroke and has little patience to spare for formalities today. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Spock stared down at the floor for an extended silence, perusing through the options in his mind of how he could reply next. He truly did not wish to discuss this, but he already knew it was futile to state that.

“I believe . . .” Spock began slowly, breathed heavily upon meeting Amanda’s eyes and then looked away. “I fear I have offended a fellow member of Starfleet as of 3:45pm today.”

Amanda closed her eyes, brought her fingertips together before her lips, and attempted to hide her grin. Spock furrowed his brows marginally.

“I am sorry. Have I divulged information that is humorous in content?”

“You know Spock, for a Vulcan, you sure like to stir up the pot.”

“Well if you had not tainted my blood with that of your rebellious race, perhaps I would currently be a model specimen of the Vulcan species.”

“Yeah, that was my bad. Sorry about that, but you know how it is. Your dad was the forbidden fruit. I had to--”

“Mother.” Spock said pointedly, closing his eyes and scrunching them ever so slightly. “If I must request of you one more time to resist discussing personal relations between yourself and father--”

“AH!” Amanda pointed and laughed through the screen. “I just saw it, your eyes crinkled. Disgust is a human emotion Spock, I hope you know that.”

“I know nothing of the kind, as I exhibited no such emotion.”

“So who is it this time. Do I have to call someone’s parents? Is anyone hurt?”

“Mother, please. Approach the matter with some degree of seriousness. I believe . . .” Spock looked about in a manner that appeared self-conscious to Amanda’s amazement, as if someone else might hear. He leaned in close to the screen and asked: “Is father home?”

“No.” Amanda stated, bewildered. It was the first time Spock had asked such a thing since he’d gone to Starfleet. “Why, do you need to speak with him? I can--”

“Absolutely  **not** ” was Spock’s curt response. “I merely wished to be assured that he was not within hearing range.”  
“Spock, what did you do?” Amanda straightened and sat forward, her brow denting with concern.

“I believe . . . I am experiencing something quite akin to what the humans label as regret.”

Amanda’s eyes blew wide open as saucers, and she practically reeled in her chair.  
“Are you – you are seriously telling me right now that not only are you admitting to  _feeling_  something, but you’re actually feeling regret?! Oh God Spock, what did you do?!”

“Calm yourself, mother.” Spock all but sighed. Merciful Surak, humans were so quick to spiral into a tailspin of emotional chaos. “I had an encounter with a fellow student earlier in my Xenobiology class. He made a lewd hand gesture at me as an introduction and I assumed him to be unsavoury.”

“What gesture.” Amanda demanded, and she tried not to show her amusement as a lovely green hue rose to Spock’s cheeks.

“I would prefer not to repeat the gesture, specifically to my own mother.”

“Spock, did you listen to nothing I told you about human culture? Humans make all kinds of gestures and exchanges with their hands. We aren’t touch telepaths, it’s different for us! Now show me what he did!”

Spock was now a violent shade of jade as he emulated Jim’s gesture from earlier. He could not control how his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed as his mother exploded into loud, whooping belly laughs. She was inconsolable for the better part of five minutes, despite Spock’s attempts to cut back in with incredulity.

“Ohhh my, ohhh Spock. You never listen to me . . .” She moaned, wiping her eyes as tears of laughter streamed down her face. Spock, as per usual, appeared to be minutely appalled at her emotional outburst.

“Mother, your explosions of emotion nearly move me to the point of concern. How does one of your species engage in laughing and crying at the same time? I am perplexed.”

“Spock . . .” She croaked, coughing before she cleared her throat. “That’s the simplest human gesture there is. I have tried to show you it multiple times--”

“And I have refused multiple times and shall refuse it many more, it is wholly inappropriate!”

“For a Vulcan.” She said firmly, arching a brow at him. “You are a part of Starfleet now. How do you expect to be an ambassador for meeting other alien cultures if you refuse to be diplomatic with your own co-workers?”

Spock stared at the screen wide-eyed for a moment, opened his mouth, closed it then looked away from Amanda’s smug grin.

“Your logic is sound, mother.”

“I don’t know how many more times I’m going to have to tell you to get along with others in this lifetime, Spock. Was that all that happened?”

“Not quite.” Spock murmured. Amanda put a hand to her forehead and sighed.

“Oh, Spock . . .”

“I proceeded to inform him that his spectacles were damaged. He grew irritable at this remark. He then proceeded to spend the entire lecture doing seemingly nothing, neither reading the required lecture notes nor recording any of his own.”

“And that is your business because . . .”

“Therefore I decided to enquire as to his purpose in Starfleet as that course is relevant for those enlisted who intend to pursue a career as a Starship captain. One should not occupy space in a course as direly sought after as Xenobiology if one does not intend to treat the subject matter with the severity it demands . . .” he trailed off at the appearance of his mother’s trademark death stare.

“You were rude, Spock.”

“It was not my intention to--”

“Intention or not you were rude to that boy, Spock, and you have greatly disappointed me in doing so!” Amanda’s voice was picking up in octaves, which was a clear indication to Spock that she was angry. “What did he say? My God, how would you even respond to that?”

“He informed me that I was the worst individual he had encountered that day, and the contender for that title was an officer that had trapped him in a janitor’s closet.”

Amanda’s head was down, thumbs pressing into her brow bones.  
“Jesus, Spock . . .”

“He then proceeded to reveal that his mother had worked three jobs and he personally worked two to pay for his tuition this semester as he was vehemently passionate about what Starfleet represents.”

Amanda’s head snapped up, her mouth hanging open in horror.

“Our exchange was formally brought to close via him informing me that I am a judgemental asshole.”

At that remark, Amanda’s face lit up and she cackled wickedly, rocking back and forth in her seat in the throes of laughter. Spock was not particularly thrilled by this response.

“Excuse me mother, but I am puzzled by your reaction.”

“Oh come on now Spock, you know you deserved that.”

“I believe it was a rather heavy-handed remark--”

“For the heavy-handed questioning you dealt out, regarding his right to be in the academy?” Amanda reminded, tilting her head with a shit-eating grin. Spock breathed heavily through his nose.

“It was . . . not undeserving.”

“No, it wasn’t. You were being a smart ass, as usual.”

 “I was not instigating a conflict, mother. I was merely inquiring--”

“You were being a smart ass and you know it!” Amanda’s voice was full of mirth. “That poor boy, the kind of day he’d had and then to top it all off you come at him questioning his worthiness as a member of Starfleet? No wonder you feel regret . . .”

“Keep your voice down.” Spock responded coolly. He looked away for a moment, his lips tightening then glanced back at his mother’s familiar visage. “There was . . . another aspect of the exchange which I have neglected to mention.”

Amanda was now cradling her face in a hand.  
“Good God, S'chn T'gai  Spock. You’ll be lucky if you haven’t heard that boy has hung himself by tomorrow. . .”

“Mother!” Spock interjected with a clipped, scolding tone.

“What more is there, out with it!”

“He confided that I am the first alien he has encountered in Starfleet . . . and that he was . . . disappointed.”

Amanda stared at him carefully, studying him.

“Did he hurt your feelings?”

She let out a tiny titter of a giggle as Spock narrowed his eyes at her. “Well Spock, I think you know what you have to do. You can’t let that be the story that the poor boy brings home to his parents when he returns for Christmas.”

“I . . . believe, I do not understand.”

“Spock.” Amanda said pointedly. “You are the very first alien encounter that the guy has ever had in Starfleet. And it was horrible. That doesn’t exactly set a great precedent for the future, does it?”

“I suppose not . . .”

“You know you’re not going to feel better until you apologize.”

Spock stared at the screen with what Amanda could recognize under the layers of control as a glare.

“Don’t you look at me like that, son. You screwed up and you know it. Regret isn’t going to go away with meditation. You hurt somebody, and no son of mine gets to go around having a free pass at other’s emotions just because he thinks he can Vulcan them away. You are a member of Starfleet now, and it is your responsibility to adhere to the various cultures you encounter and maintain a level of respect with them.”

Spock nodded his head once, lowly, thinking that this had to be one of the most uncomfortable conversations he had ever had with his mother, and dreading the even more uncomfortable one he would be forced to have with Jim.

“Spock . . . besides all that, you made someone else feel bad for no good reason. It saddens me to hear you even have the capacity to do so, but unfortunately it is a part of being human.”

There was that well-veiled glare again from her son.

“Don’t give me that. It’s not a dirty word, and it’s half of what you are. And now that you’re in Starfleet, you must give humans the respect that they are due as fellow members of the fleet. Now I am going to call you tomorrow evening, and you’d better be ready to tell me how your apology went or so help me God, I will fly down there and drag you by a pointed ear to that boy’s dorm room and smack one out of you. Understood?”

Spock felt like he wanted to melt through the floor into oblivion.

“Understood, mother . . .” Amanda turned her head suddenly at a noise in the background.

“It’s your father.” She whispered. She pressed a kiss to her hand and threw it at the screen. Spock eyed her with his slitted eyes, the epitome of Vulcan attitude. “Spock . . .” She said warningly, and he begrudgingly pretended to catch the kiss.

“Really, mother. Am I quite the age for such human nonsense--”

“The day I die will be the day you’re too old for my human nonsense. I love you with all my heart, Spock. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good evening, mother. Live long, and prosper.” He raised his hand, producing the Vulcan gesture, and the screen went dark.

He walked to the center of the room, sank to the floor getting into Indian style position, and tried to steady his racing thoughts.

  
He had to calm himself, focus, and meditate – to reign in his rampant human emotions that always crawled close to the surface after an encounter with his mother. He needed to prepare for the various levels of painstaking human encounters he would have to engage in tomorrow.

  
He knew damn well that if his mother threatened to fly to earth just to drag him to Jim’s dorm room if he didn’t have a proper apology ready for tomorrow, she was stubborn enough to follow through on that promise.

  
Quietly ebbing away the agony of social awkwardness and anxiety that had mounted in his chest regarding tomorrow, the Vulcan drew within to tap into his inner being; to delve into his ancestry in the practice of smoothing out the waves of chaos in his mind produced by human thought into a calm lake of logic. 


	4. Snob

As was customary, Spock arrived for class well ahead of time.

  
As was not customary in the slightest, there was already someone sitting in the lecture hall before him. He actually paused in the doorway, mildly stunned – then felt a pool of dread spreading like iced liquid on his insides. Sitting back on to the doorway, hunched over a thick textbook was:

“Jim . . .”

The golden-haired man jumped. He whirled to look at Spock staring down at his desk, and then heaved out a harsh breath of annoyance. He put his face in his hand.

“God, not you.”

“You are reading a textbook.”

“Your gift of observation is remarkable. Do you mind? I was up half of the night in the library looking for this. I have to read it for class.”

There was an extended pause, then:

“You purchased new spectacles.”

“They’re spares.” Came the clipped response.

“You are the first cadet I have seen in Starfleet actually reading from a textbook.”

“Well take a picture and keep it down.” Jim muttered, and Spock could not help the flare of amusement that rippled through him. Jim was being, as his mother used to be so fond of saying, “saucy.” It wasn’t unwarranted. Somehow, he doubted he should be enjoying this.

“Why are you reading a textbook?”

“I like the way they smell.”

Spock’s eyes widened marginally _. So illogical._

“What is the real reason you are reading a textbook?”

A heated sigh.

“My PADD is broken, if you’d failed to notice what was left of it in the door jamb yesterday.”

Jim was causing Spock to experience a couple of firsts. Currently, it was the first time Spock had ever sat in a classroom and wanted to crawl out of his own skin. He was experiencing . . . nervousness? He had felt it once, when discussing Starfleet with his father. He hadn’t imagined that he could have felt worse than he did yesterday, but yet again, Jim had surprised him. He swallowed, his throat feeling tight with embarrassment.

“He destroyed your PADD? It belonged to you, and he purposefully disabled it?”

Jim smirked rather unpleasantly over his glasses.

“No. The guy destroyed his own 2500 dollar PADD to show me he meant business.”

“That is preposterous. What a blatant waste of resources. Why would an individual expend their energy on such fruitlessness?”

“Did you just say fruitlessness?” Jim snorted. Spock delivered a mildly scathing glance.

“Wow, Spock. Y’know I think you’re going to need this class, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to sign up for Human Behaviour and History.”

“For what purpose?”

“Well, you clearly don’t know the first thing about dealing with humans. In fact you might start a war here before you even get to space.”

Spock seemed to entirely ignore that comment and raised a brow.

“I know that there are rules to be upheld here at Starfleet--”

“—and I know full well that Finnegan knows those rules, has considered the risk, and took it anyway. He’s been doing this for years, do you think the fact that we moved to San Francisco is going to change that?”

“Why has this particular individual Finnegan chosen to plague you for years?”

“Because he hates the shit out of me.”

Spock resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands.  _He speaks words, and their meaning is beyond unintelligible._

“And why does this individual hate you?”

Jim let out a bark laugh.

“Why don’t you ask him. I have no fucking idea. But I have a theory, and that is my belief that the guy is just a dipshit.”

“You are a rather vulgar human.” Spock blinked, hiding his appall well. Jim looked up blankly for a moment before busting into a laugh. Spock was near overwhelmed by the strangeness of Jim’s reactions.

“You haven’t met McCoy.”

“I believe that I have. Outside the janitor’s closet.”

“How did you know that he was McCoy?”

Spock looked pointedly at him.

“Your companion is one of the finest medical officers in Starfleet. I was disappointed to discover that such a fine scientist would prove himself to be so . . . human.”

“Have you always been such a snob?”

“Snob?” Spock raised his brows, looking almost pained.  _Were these legitimate words being uttered?_  “You speak so much nonsense.”

“Excuse me?” Jim snapped a look at Spock that was unmistakably offense. Spock could identify offense easily, for his mother wore it so often. Clearly, his honest observation could be interpreted as offensive. Yet Jim had a tendency to use . . . colorful, winding language.

“I did not mean to offend . . .” He began, but then upon reflection he realized that it was perhaps useless to say something of the kind when a human was wearing that expression. His theory proved correct when Jim leaned forward slightly with a quick jerk of his head, another familiar expression his mother often wore. It was a perfect blend of flabbergast and discomfort.

“Are you serious?” Jim stared. “I mean . . . no really. How else was I supposed to take that?” Spock began staring back, mesmerized by this tornado of emotion. He had no idea how Jim would react to anything next. He was truly a fascinating spectacle to behold.  “Wow, Spock. You really do have no clue when it comes to dealing with humans. You need help.”

“I believe myself to be an expert among my people.”

“Well then God help your people if they end up coming here. You all might as well stay put if you’re the best they have to offer for diplomacy. You’re terrible at this. What on earth makes you think you’re an expert?”

  
Spock provided a sideways glance that was near sly, taking a moment before giving his reply.

“My human mother.”

Jim nearly fell out of his desk.

“WHAT?!”

 Jim’s mouth remained wide open in shock for a moment as Spock stared ahead, self-satisfied. It was at that time that the professor and clustered groups of students filtered their way into the room. Jim turned to look back at them briefly before snapping back around again.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, and Spock felt a sensation bubble up in his throat that he managed to swallow back down. It was quite akin to laughter, but in all seriousness that is ridiculous – Vulcans don’t laugh.

“You’re just going to throw that out there at the beginning of class? What the hell?!” Jim spat, but Spock merely stared straight ahead, seemingly smug underneath. When the Vulcan failed to reply, Jim reached out and jabbed him. Spock delivered a sharp, darting glance.

“Keep your appendages to yourself, and remain silent. We cannot afford another incident with professor Vaidya.”  He struggled with amusement at Jim’s irritable expression.

“You just get off on being a dick, don’t you.”

A strange expression suddenly overtook Spock's face -- a moment of realization. He appeared to be staring wide-eyed into a void.

“Um . . .” Jim stammered. “Are you mad now?”

“I forgot to apologize.” Spock stated, and Jim looked at the Vulcan incredulously.

“You said  **I**  speak nonsense . . .”

“Gentlemen!” A booming voice startled Kirk and certainly did  **not**  startle Spock.

Both turned their attention to the front of the room, feeling a definitive sense of doom.

“There should  _not_  have to be a second time. You shall both report to my office after class. That is not a request. Spock, I am astounded.”

“I am so embarrassed I want to run out of this room.” Jim whispered, and Spock delivered a leer that showcased both hatred and panic.

“Shh!”

“Can there possibly be any more you want to share, Cadet Kirk? My sweet Lord . . .”

Kirk buried his head in the textbook before him, holding it up like a fortress, red-faced and mortified.

“Sir, no sir.”

Kirk spent the remainder of the class sweating, staring between his textbook, notepad and the lecture screen. He kept mindful of the clock, counting down the minutes until he was surely going to eat shit in Vaidya’s office.

And then there was Spock. Furiously taking notes, a vision of austere calm, participating in the lecture as if nothing had even happened.  

Kirk just sat in his desk, wet beads climbing down the slope of his back as he mentally cursed the Vulcan. The bell for next period took him off guard, and nearly sent him launching up out of his seat.

“Jesus . . .” He hissed, earning him a derisive glance from Spock.

“Gentlemen, come with me.” Vaidya demanded sternly, and they certainly didn’t deny him. Both got to their feet immediately and followed. 


	5. Chapter 5

\--

The two sat side by side, Spock a vision of cool and Jim a sweating, nervous nightmare. My God, if he found himself kicked out of the academy. The money his poor mother spent, gone . . . the two waited before the elegant curve of desk that Professor Vaidya stood behind. His hands were clasped behind his back, towering in his dark, crisp uniform. His shock of slicked silver hair was held like a pristine beacon atop his head, a striking accent against his mahogany skin. He gave a deep sigh.

“Sir?” Spock uttered when he could take no more silence.

The man turned to face them, dark eyes snatching the light.

“God dammit, I really hoped I wouldn’t be doing this at the beginning of a semester -- and least of all with you, Spock.”

“Professor Vaidya, I must--”

“You **must** keep silent, both of you.”

Kirk really wanted to laugh, because he was too terrified to turn his head, but he was imagining what the expression on Spock’s face might look like right now and it was too good.

“This is the last time I’m going to do this. And so help you God if you test me again, because I don’t get paid to waste anyone’s time. What I am teaching in there, each and every one of you is going to have to take with you into deep space. It is vital for the survival of you, and your crew mates.”

He was pacing, a fire kindled in the coal of his pupil. “I have been to federation planets, and let me tell you something. Being a member of the federation doesn’t mean you have to like each other. There will be struggle every day. There will be various species that despise you because of that skin you wear and nothing more. And that’s just while you’re at home base out there.” He pointed out the window to the setting sky. “Now you two expect to go into deep space, facing a plethora of species that mankind has never set eyes upon, without so much as a hint of knowledge regarding your **own** allies and enemies?” He stared them down hard, and the two obediently remained silent, frozen to their seats.

“Spock, you mightn’t need this, but he does. I am growing alarmed at your pension for distraction, considering your credentials.”

“Are you serious right now?” Jim sputtered, and Spock’s chest burned with the sensation of swallowing down laughter at Jim’s appalled expression. “How could you say something like that? What, so you think I’m some kind of idiot compared to this guy? You don’t even know me!”

“No, I do not.” Vaidya responded tersely. “But I know him.”

“And why should I care who he is? All I’ve gathered is that he’s a gigantic--”

“Mister Kirk, Commander Spock is the most distinguished graduate in this Academy. For all I know, he’s either here for practice or fun.”

Spock’s eyes widened marginally and Jim gaped, a blend of offense and disbelief.

“Practice? He’s in Xenobiology for practice.” Jim put a hand to his head for a moment before tossing it up. “He needs more than practice; he doesn’t even know what a human handshake is--”

“I am well-versed in the custom of handshaking, Cadet Kirk, I am merely disgusted by the gesture.”

“How in the name of God is a handshake disgusting?”

“It is overtly lewd!” Spock answered sharply, eyes mildly narrowed.

“ **Gentlemen**!” The professor brought his fist down upon the desk, and both looked momentarily startled, sitting back in their chairs wide-eyed.

“Humans are most . . . unpredictable.” Spock muttered quietly, and Jim bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing. That was the closest thing to an expression that Jim had seen on Spock’s face yet, and he had looked truly mortified for a split second. Why, why, _why_ did he always want to laugh at the worst times?

“Excuse me, Professor--”

“Enough, Spock. I know what you’re capable of, and you’re above this. You are a Commander, and it’s time you acted like one. I want no more disruptions – do not distract others in your classes. They are already at a disadvantage.”

“Jesus, I’m **right** here--”

“Quiet, Cadet Kirk.” Vaiyda furrowed and waved his arm at Kirk, who looked positively disdainful. Now it was Spock who felt the unusual sensation of laughter trying to bubble its way up his throat. He swallowed it down, maintaining control.

“Spock, perhaps you think you’re well versed enough on the course material that you have time for chit-chat. Perhaps you do. But this cadet just arrived at Starfleet, and he’s got potential. He can’t afford to slip up. Now I’m counting on you to get this boy through my Xenobiology class--”

“—that is preposterous, I have seen no testimony to his skill--”  
“ _RIGHT_ HERE!--”

“Cadet Kirk you _will_ be tutored by this gentleman once a week! If he’s willing to usurp time to distract you in my class, he shall certainly make up for my time lost with his own. Now I hope the two of you can prove you’re adult enough to work out a date and time amongst yourselves, because I will hear no more on the matter. It is not up for discussion, it is an order.” Vaidya responded sternly, standing.

“There will be many times out there in deep space when your knowledge of alien history and culture shall surely save your life.” The professor folded his arms, and looked at the two sat before him levelly. “Now, as I understand it, you have both applied yourselves to your studies in the hopes of eventually making Starship Captain and have chosen your courses as such. Before you take command of a ship you’re both going to have to learn a great deal about maintaining control over yourselves.”

Vaidya stood, indicating the others should as well, and they stood at attention before him.

“No great Starship Captain gets to his position by relying entirely on himself. He must learn control and balance; when to rely on his own intuition, and when to depend on others. That begins with self-knowledge and discipline.” To the surprise of the pair before him, Vaidya suddenly cracked a smirk.

“Look. I know how it is. You’re young. I was too. I know what it is to be a plebe in Starfleet. But do not allow yourselves to get wrapped up in the freedom away from home.”

Spock delivered a look that mildly resembled revulsion.

“I do not partake in the frivolities of secondary education social norms.”

“Is that so?” Vaidya grinned. “Is that why you’re now sitting in my office for engaging in the frivolous social norm known as chatting during lectures?”

Spock merely offered up an expression that Amanda would have recognized as a Vulcan scowl as Jim remained gleefully silent, soaking up the scene.

“If you two are quite finished, I believe that you gentlemen have needlessly absorbed enough of my free time today, which I have little of to begin with. You shall sort out your tutoring schedule amongst yourselves and I shall expect an update on progress, Spock. You have my respect, but you do not have my permission to derail the concentration of one of my students. Cadet Kirk has worked hard to earn his place in the academy; we are not all so fortunate as to have prestigious diplomats for relatives. You are both dismissed.”

The two saluted their professor and made their way out of the office in silence, the door snapping shut behind them.

“Jeez, what a tight ass . . .” Kirk murmured, turning toward Spock to gauge his response to his crass comment, and was alarmed to find that the Vulcan had already made his way partially down the hall away from him. “Hey!” Jim shouted, and followed suit quickly. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I have had to sacrifice enough of my study time to your ludicrous behaviour, Cadet Kirk. Now if you will excuse me--”

“I won’t.” Jim hissed. “It’s your fault I even got in shit in the first place, and Vaidya said you have to tutor me. If anything, you could use some yourself considering how terrible you are at interacting with humans.”

“I will not stand here and listen to this litany of ridicule from an inferior. I shall reflect upon my own schedule, which is already impossibly gorged, and find an adequate time allotment in which I can attempt to salvage your performance in professor Vaidya’s course.”

“You arrogant son of a bitch.” Kirk spat. “What about my schedule? At least let me tag along so I don’t have to wait to find out when I’m going to be stuck with you this week!”

“Absolutely not.” The abruptness in which Spock delivered these words halted Kirk in his steps, and his expression actually held a touch of hurt. Spock did not know why, but recognizing hurt in the human’s eyes made his disposition more emollient; he disliked the fact that he felt sympathy for this human, but it was an unfortunate characteristic of his own personality. Jim was just so much like his mother; so open and unguarded with his emotions and reactions, so susceptible to outside influence. “I . . . it is not a convenient time. I am expecting an important call from my mother--”

“The human?!” Jim leaped at the recollection from earlier, and his eyes grew eager and desperate with curiosity. “You never explained that! How on earth does a Vulcan end up with a human mother?!”

“I wonder.” Spock mumbled with eyes narrowed, and Jim grinned.

“You do get sarcasm!”

“Cadet Kirk, I will arrive at your quarters in approximately 3.2 of your earth hours. Please, ensure you are presentable and present.” Spock began walking away briskly, and Jim watched after him with a bark of laughter following the Vulcan’s back down the hall.

“You want me to be presentable for you? What?! Who the hell are you, the queen?”

 ---


	6. My Fucking Hero

-

Spock was still irate in the aftermath of his conversation with Amanda, though his exterior disposition revealed no such thing. His mother had been chagrined by his neglect to apologize to Kirk, though she quickly switched to amusement at the prospect of her son being forced to tutor the very cadet he had previously belittled.

“Well good riddance. That’ll teach you, Spock.” She had laughed. “Now you have no choice but to have some good old fashioned human interaction, whether you like it or not. Just you wait. Starfleet may bring out the humanity in you yet.”

He was still mulling over her words mentally. He was secretly terrified of the possibility that his humanity might reveal itself and overcome his Vulcan half someday, when a commotion around the corner tore him from his internal focus. 

“Oof!” The sound of flesh and bone impacting unyielding metal ricocheted down the hall, assaulting the Vulcan’s ears as he rounded the corner. He was just in time to see a burly blonde petty officer roughing up Kirk, who was now on the floor, glasses skittering a few feet away from his face. Other cadets were passing by hurriedly to avoid getting pulled into the gravity of the situation or stood frozen, watching in entertainment or horror, unsure how to react as inferiors to the offender.

“Why is it you always have to be such a smart ass, Jimmy? Why can’t you just keep yer fuckin’ mouth shut? You’d suffer a lot less if you did.”

“And let you go about your day thinking you’re not an idiot?” Jim gasped from the floor, grinning. “Not a chance.” Spock felt that primal stab of a familiar feeling in his chest as Finnegan abruptly kicked Kirk in the gut, eliciting a spurt of breath from the plebe. It was rage, and it was the most difficult of emotions he had struggled to control in his years growing up as a half-human.

“Gentlemen!” Spock’s voice was a sharp dart that pierced the tense atmosphere, and his fierce grip attached to Finnegan’s shoulder, who was still glaring upon his prey.

“You invite someone to this party, Jimmy? Typical.” Finnegan grinned down at Kirk. “It’s rude to interrupt a conversation, son – I should teach you some manners . . .” Finnegan finally began to turn to confront Spock; his arm was poised to launch. Spock’s hand lashed out like a striking cobra to grasp Finnegan about the forearm, seizing the appendage that was headed for his face; in a lightening-smooth motion, Finnegan was tossed over Spock’s head and sent crashing to the floor with a resounding crack. The small audience in the hall began to applaud.

“Cadets!” Spock spoke tersely. “You will disperse immediately or be subject to reprimanding. Consider that an order.” The hasty squeak of footsteps cleared the hall and left the Vulcan alone with the two warring parties involved. Spock’s foot pushed in on Finnegan’s right shoulder, keeping him pinned to the floor as he leered down calmly at the startled petty officer.

“The next time you raise your hand to strike a superior within these walls, sir, it shall be your last. This behaviour is not tolerated within our fleet and quite frankly is an abhorrent abuse of the uniform which you have had the privilege to don. If you do not wish to have that privilege revoked, I suggest you cease your adversarial encounters with cadet Kirk and your fellow Starfleet officers, lest you should find yourself expelled from this institution. You are dismissed.” Spock said coolly, as though perfectly reciting from a script. 

Humiliated and outraged, Finnegan scrambled to his feet once Spock lifted his foot and dashed clumsily down the hall, pausing only long enough to glare back beet-faced at the Vulcan who had publicly shamed him. Kirk was breathless for a moment as Spock helped him to his feet and handed him his glasses. Jim felt a concoction of disbelief, euphoria and shock inflating within him to bursting point. He had never seen anyone lay Finnegan out like that; never thought it was possible. Now this skinny reed of an alien had just thrown that burly asshole over his head and laid it down on him like a boss. Impressed was an understatement.

“I could kiss you right now.” Kirk breathed, surprising himself and earning a mildly startled look from the Vulcan beside him.

“No, I do not believe you could, nor would I recommend attempting said revolting human gesture of affection, lest you end up like your childhood friend.”

“He is  **not**  my friend, and you just served his ass! God, that was delicious! You’re my fucking hero, Spock! That was insane!” Jim crowed, throwing an arm about Spock’s extraordinarily tense shoulders. Spock seemed mildly uncomfortable, moving himself out from under the weight of Kirk’s physical contact.

“You would do me a service to reserve the finer details of this incident and respectfully leave them confidential, Cadet Kirk.” The Vulcan began to lecture, straightening his uniform primly. Kirk observed him while donning a shit-eating smirk. “I do not enjoy exerting my authority over others unless the situation provokes me to do so.  Petty officer Finnegan provided me with no other option than--”

“--to toss that bastard like a salad. I saw that part. It was awesome.”

“It was not, as you state, “awesome”. It was necessary. And it appears to me that if your desire is to become a Starfleet Captain, you require far more education than that of Xenobiology. It would serve you well to join me in the gym tomorrow morning at 6 am sharp--”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa. 6 am? No, that isn’t happening. Who the hell gets up at 6 am when--”

“Arrive, at 6 am. You will need to be dressed appropriately and engage in adequate stretches prior to training, hence you will have to wake yourself at approximately quarter to five--”

“Yeah, no, not a fucking chance--”

“You  **will**  join me, or run the future risk of, as you have previously stated in your rather colourful human manner, being “tossed like a salad”. Consider that an order, Cadet Kirk.”

“You have got to be kidding me. Do you really like me this much, Spock?”

For that, Kirk only got a mild narrowing of eyes and a tightening of lips in response before the Vulcan stated calmly: “Cadet Kirk, you are in a rather unsightly state of disarray and you would do yourself a service to alleviate your current appearance.”

“Yeah, I guess I must be after that. Wow, you really have a habit of catching me at my worst--”

 “I require no further excuses for the continued drama and chaos that perpetually orbits your existence. I shall allot you twenty of your earth minutes to compose yourself, retrieve a change of uniform, and prepare yourself for our tutoring session--”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake – are you always such a tight ass? No, I’m not getting in another uniform. I’m just going to get in my PJ’s, now come on.” Kirk dragged Spock in through the door and had barely shut the door with the kick of his heel before he had whipped off his crumpled shirt and tossed it in a basket partially filled near the door. Spock was not prepared for this shocking display of human indifference. He had never encountered a human so devoid of self-consciousness regarding their own body, but Spock could not help but notice the source of such confidence: flawless bronze skin that was pulled taut over smooth curvatures of finely-toned muscles. They rippled attractively with each minute movement before Jim pulled a fresh white cotton T-shirt over his head, concealing the bounty. Kirk was . . . not unpleasant to behold.

A jolt of astonishment and shame gripped the Vulcan hard from within, and Spock found himself privately mortified by his own train of thoughts. His perception of Kirk had been wholly inappropriate as a superior officer looking upon an inferior. He was disturbed by this unusual internal musing, and found himself startled when the realization came upon him; it was attraction. Genuine human attraction he had felt when looking upon Kirk’s naked torso for that brief moment . . .

“Um . . .” Jim’s voice broke the reverie of privacy within Spock's analytic head, which had begun scrambling for justifications for his uncharacteristic train of thought. He hoped his expression was as level and bland as he attempted to make it look as he realized that Jim now stood before him clad in pajamas, fists resting on his hips impatiently. “So are you going to get your PADD out, or are you actually going to make me look up what we’ve covered so far in class page by page in this ancient textbook?”

Spock cleared his throat gently, whipping out his own PADD with eagerness, relieved at this welcome, uniform distraction.

\--

“So you may wish to strongly bear this in mind if you should find yourself stationed or appointed on a mission in either of these quadrants: while this gesture is a friendly invitation on Orion, it is a disgraceful and lewd gesture on the moon Andoria.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” Kirk mused, sitting back. Spock seemed mildly puzzled.

“No, it is simply fact.”

“No, I mean, on our planet, that looks so similar to the gesture you would use to beckon someone over – it’s wild that it has so many other interpretations on other planets. Can you imagine keeping all of this straight in your head while we’re on away missions?”

“Yes, I can quite easily distinguish between the meanings of an individual gesture depending on the context and culture in which I am immersed. However, I have noticed the human tendency to place precedence on their own established cultural representations of individual gestures, inhibiting their ability to observe multiple interpretations at once, which makes them a stubborn and difficult species to educate in relation to the social and cultural adherences of other species.”

“So basically what you’re saying is, we’re self-centered.”

“Precisely.”

“Oh yeah? Well I remember that you wouldn’t return my human handshake because of the fact that you couldn’t get past your own Vulcan cultural bias, so what does that make you?”

Spock raised both brows, genuinely taken aback for a moment by Kirk’s wit.

“Your observation is sound. As I believe you would say on earth, “Well played”, cadet Kirk.”

Jim beamed, illuminating the room for a moment with his rapture. As quickly as it had appeared, that smile and the warmth that came with it disappeared at a curt knocking on the door.

“Jim? Jim! Jesus, open the door. I haven’t heard from you all God damn day, at least confirm that Finnegan hasn’t done you in.” A growling Southern drawl worked its way through the door, and Kirk and Spock looked at each other in muted alarm.

“God, what time is it?” Kirk mused, glancing at the clock and shocking himself when he realized he had just spent four hours talking about aliens with Spock. The Vulcan lept up, straightening his uniform out of habit and gathering his things.

“My apologies, I failed to observe how swiftly the passage of time has occurred--”

“We’ve been at this for four hours, can you believe it?!”

“—Jim, do you have a woman in there?! At least put a sock on the door--”

“Just a minute, Bones, I have company!  _Jesus_.” Kirk’s face erupted in flustered rouge, and he was raking the fingers of one hand back over his hair self-consciously. Spock was entertained by this rare display of embarrassment. “Sorry about that. He can be blunt -- or rude, whatever you want to call it.”

“You forget that I have kept company with you for an evening. I am hardly unprepared for such crassness. I have already permitted the usage of far more time than I had anticipated this evening, though I will admit it was not . . . unpleasant.”

At Jim’s bright and borderline self-important expression, Spock instantly regretted what he considered to be flagrant gushing on his part. “That is I meant to convey that this evening was not as unpleasant as I had previously anticipated when we were forcibly designated as study partners in Professor Vaidya’s office.” Kirk’s expression automatically grew dull.

“It’s always give a little take a little with you, isn’t it.”

“If you will excuse me, I am quite behind – I must now report to head office with my account of the incident which previously transpired between you, myself and Petty Officer Finnegan before a varied account reaches our superiors--”

“No!” Kirk blanched at this as Spock was heading out the door, and the Vulcan nearly brought up solid on the scowling country doctor on the other side.

“Jesus Christ! The Asian Beatle?!” McCoy barked before his mind could catch up with his mouth, and he instantly regretted opening his mouth at Spock’s mutedly irate expression, clapping a hand over his own shotgun maw.

“Excuse me?” Spock stared at McCoy in awe, slightly disquieted by the emotion wordlessly spewing out of him.

“Get in there!” Kirk seethed, shoving McCoy into his room and slamming the door behind him in the doctor’s outraged face.

“Now wait just a damn minute, Jim!--”

“Don’t you dare come out until I tell you to or I swear to Jesus, Bones!”

 Jim instantly took Spock about the arm, which earned him one arched eyebrow. “Spock, please -- do  **not**  report what happened earlier – Please! That’ll only make it worse--”

“I see no logic in your assertion. Petty Officer Finnegan defied Starfleet regulation--”

“Listen to me!” Kirk hissed, tugging on the arm still in his grip for emphasis. “We’ve already wasted enough time on this, and the last thing I need you to do is to take this any further. It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”

“And what merit would my silence yield? I am of the opinion that an officer who is willing to engage in behaviour that is unbecoming of a Starfleet officer should have no place within our ranks.” 

“Look. I get it. Maybe he’s an asshole now. I used to be one myself in the not so distant past – but at least the guy is making an attempt to go straight after getting out of the hell hole he grew up in. If he gets kicked out now, he probably won’t go anywhere with his life – I mean God, he’s lucky he’s even made it here. You don’t know what he went through growing up.”

“I do not appreciate that you are willing to waste my valuable time in arguing the case for your own traducer; it is most illogical. Do you believe his experiences as an adolescent justify his revolting behaviour as an adult? I can hardly comprehend your defense of an individual who was carrying out acts of physical violence against your person, and was also willing to engage a superior officer in such acts of aggression.”

“No, of course it doesn’t justify it. Jesus. That’s not what I’m saying. Maybe he’ll never grow out of it, but perhaps if you knew the kind of upbringing he had, you might be able to understand why he is the way he is. If he doesn’t find his way in Starfleet, I don’t think the guy has a shot anywhere else.”

“All the more reason that he should be cognizant of the fact that the stakes are much higher for him, and his placement here may be his only redemption and opportunity to craft himself a prospective future. Considering his current disposition and reckless behaviour, I highly doubt that it is plausible that he shall ever ascend to a status beyond the academy. In fact, I am quite perplexed that such an execrable character has made it to the rank that he has achieved.”

“Oh, please. You talk so high and mighty -- what about you, Spock? Do you mean to tell me your life was perfect growing up, that the things that happened to you as a kid haven’t in some way shaped or distorted the person you thought you’d be now? Are you so flawless that nothing about your upbringing has impacted who you are today?”

At Kirk’s prompting, Pandora’s Box flipped open and spilled its ugly contents within Spock’s mind. A torrent of horrors in reviled flickers of memory began assaulting him: the young faces of other Vulcans, devoid of expression aside from the hatred, the disgust burning along his skin hotly from their eyes. The vulgar name-calling. The sensation of scalding tears rolling down his own cheekbones as he had walked home with dread and shame in his core, rattled and seething with hatred as he was haunted by the things that they had said about his mother . . .

Spock turned from Kirk abruptly, shaken within. He never usually permitted himself to reflect upon his past, as it typically resulted in nothing but stinging agony.

“Consider this conversation complete, Cadet Kirk.” The Vulcan uttered in a clipped fashion, and without clearly considering what he was doing, he began to move to walk away – to be anywhere but here, in front of someone, blatantly feeling that which he had vowed he would never explore again. Jim took one look at the stark expression on Spock’s face and realized his words had either completely backfired or worked far better than he could have anticipated; either way, he had made a grave mistake.

“Spock, wait – please, I can see that I upset you--”

“You have done no such thing.” The harshness of Spock’s voice betrayed the verity of his words.

“—I-I’m sorry. I was way out of line, and I’m sorry I said anything like that. I just – I want you to give Finnegan this one break. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I pity the guy. He’s an asshole, but I’d hate to see him get sent home to his shitty dad, nobody deserves that. I never meant to offend you. Just please, do me this one favour, and I won’t bring up your past again. I shouldn’t have said what I said, it was stupid. I honestly have no idea how you grew up.”

“Yes, it was remarkably unwise, and unsurprisingly inconsiderate on your part. I do not wish to continue in this any longer, now please, excuse me--”

“Spock!” Jim startled the Vulcan by grasping him about the shoulders. The unguarded look of desperation and concern on the human’s face was disconcerting.  _How blatantly they wear their emotions_  . . .  “I’m sorry, I just – I feel awful – you got Finnegan off of me earlier, took time out to tutor me, and this is the thanks you get. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know the first thing about how to interact with a Vulcan--”

“That much I have surmised, Cadet Kirk--”

“I know, I know, I’m an idiot, and I don’t want to leave things like this. It doesn’t feel right. Forgive my ignorance, I’m learning as much as you are about interacting with other species . . .” He trailed off at what appeared to be amusement glistening in Spock’s dark eyes, replacing that previous cloud of tumultuous mystery.

“My doubts regarding that claim are significant.”

“Yeah, make fun of me all you want, just as long as you’re not leaving here feeling shitty. God, I feel like such an asshole. . .”

“Then I believe we may consider ourselves even in that regard.”

“What the hell are you talking about now?”

“My initial treatment of you upon our first encounter was . . . unsavory at best. I am yet to apologize for my behaviour.”

“Actually, yeah, you are.” The two stood in silence for a moment before Kirk delivered a glance that was both irritable and confused. “So, um, are you going to get to that part, or . . .”

“I apologize. Is that sufficient?”

“You were a stuck up prick. But I was just an inconsiderate dick, so I guess yeah. You can call it even.”

“You are consistently and unsettlingly vulgar.”

“You’re going to have to get used to that. So are we still on for tomorrow at six?”

Spock’s brows lifted.

“You are waiving your objections to the combat tutorial?”

“Well, I kind of feel beyond shitty now, so yeah. I think I owe you.”

“Then you are a foolish and over reactive human, as we have already settled the matter evenly. Nonetheless, we shall meet at the appointed time. It would be unwise for you to risk being tardy prior to a sparring session with me, as you are already at a severe disadvantage.” Spock secretly took pleasure in the blatant expression of offense that seized Kirk’s features, mouth agape as the Vulcan turned away.

“Until the morrow, Cadet Kirk – I bid you good evening.”

“What the fuck? You cocky son of a—w-what is your deal? One minute you’re this nice guy, then the next . . . ” But Kirk realized too late that Spock had sauntered quietly off down the hall, leaving him feeling like a fool who was muttering insults to himself. 

He was astounded by his own reactions to the alien. Never in his life had another creature so enraged, frustrated, and yet wholly enticed him. One moment he wanted to knock that sleek-haired green-tinted head off, and the next he was clinging to the guy, terrified of having offended him and thus rendering null their tentative alliance. For whatever reason, Kirk had surprised himself in his immense enjoyment of Spock’s company that evening, and wanted to ensure that it would happen again. He was so insatiably curious. Spock was a mysterious character, so foreign, so different from himself. How hard would it be to get to know him -- to earn his trust and comradery? Why did he even care when mere days ago he hoped he would never see the bastard again?

All of a sudden the door behind him flew open with a bang. The doorway revealed McCoy’s purpled, wide-eyed face, scaring the hell out of Jim – he had been so caught up in the moment, he had completely forgotten that he’d shoved McCoy in his room before what had transpired between him and Spock. He was also pretty humiliated that Bones had clearly heard everything, and that was one awkward conversation to randomly eavesdrop on.

The two of them stared at one another in what could only be described as bewilderment.

“Jim.” McCoy said calmly, blinking at his friend. “What. The actual. Fuck. I don’t see you for nearly one -- ONE day -- and I come back to find that you’re now going steady with the Asian Beatle?!”

\--

Spock didn’t know why he had decided to respect Jim’s wishes; it certainly went against his own strict adherence to regulation. Unfortunately, the only logic he could derive from his own actions was the simple fact that he did not wish to see Jim in further distress, and had an inexplicable desire to placate him. This frustrated his Vulcan half, yet thrilled the human in him.

As he sat on the floor, lighting the candles and the incense about him to begin his meditation routine, he found his human side to be particularly active in his mind’s stage. It was catering to sensation, emotion, memories that lent weight to that which was borderline sentimental: Jim’s brilliant smile. His pleasant physique. How he had spoken on the behalf of an individual that habitually did him wrong out of pity and concern. Spock found this to be overwhelmingly ridiculous, admirable, and altogether selfless.

How desperate his mannerisms, how stricken Jim’s face had become when he felt that he had offended Spock. He had worried about the Vulcan’s well-being openly, and Spock had been forced to fiercely clamp down on the flattery that threatened to consume him. It was one of the first times another creature had shown concern for Spock aside from his own mother; had worried how their actions or words had impacted him. Kirk had disliked the prospect of offending him, and Spock had seldom been on the receiving end of such compassion. He had apologized so freely . . .

_“I could kiss you right now.”_

Spock recalled Jim’s jovial exclamation, and what that casual statement had done to his insides. Spock felt a great heat consume his face, and it was such a startling and foreign sensation that he stood abruptly from his meditation pose and moved toward the mirror in his bathroom. He was taken aback by his own appearance; the vibrant shade of jade that had risen to his cheeks. His palms felt hot. He placed a hand to his lower right side and felt the elevated pulsing beneath his long fingers. Appalled, he was struck with the realization that he was experiencing a thrill of excitement.

_Disgraceful!_

Anxious and fretful, he tried to regain mental balance and restore his calm demeanor by rushing back to the spot on the floor where he meditated. It was harder than it had ever been any day previous at Starfleet. He could not help the seed of shame that was planted within his Vulcan core _. Such benign human distractions and nonsense . . ._  he scolded himself mentally. Despite his best efforts, during the moments of silence that followed, his mind would occasionally flicker back to Jim’s slender torso and welcoming smile; the desperate grip of his hands, and worst of all, that innocent yet all-too-human statement:

_“I could kiss you right now."_

_\---_


	7. Mother Hens

\--

“So, uh, what the fuck was that? Do Vulcans emit some kind of sexually alluring aura like a Deltan that I don’t know about? You didn’t even know that guy existed like what – two days ago? And now--”

“Oh quit riding my ass, Bones. Stop being jealous. You know you’re still my favourite.” Jim laughed, roughing up McCoy’s hair fiercely before throwing himself down on the bed in an exhausted heap. He hadn’t realized what a mental and physical roller coaster he had been on until the door was shut behind him and the tiredness rained down like a heavy cloak about him. Bones was in his glee, wearing that smart-ass smirk that he so often touted if he wasn’t grumpy -- and if he was happy, he was usually tormenting someone.

“I’m havin’ my doubts about that, man! Jim, did you hear yourself?”

“For God’s sakes, Bones, will you just--”

“You were fallin’ all over yourself for that guy!”

“Enough!” Jim barked, forcefully sending a pillow straight into McCoy’s smug face, who merely swatted it away with a loud guffaw.

“Seriously, Jim. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you work that hard for  **any**  woman. That guy had you eating out of his hand like a God damn duck! What did he do to you?!”

“Nothing!” Jim shouted to the ceiling, exasperated. “We got in trouble with Vaidya, we were forced to be tutor buddies together--”

“Oh, tutor buddies. That’s what you’re calling it now. Got yourself a tutor in Vulcan biology, do ya?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Kirk growled, getting up and glaring at Bones confrontationally, who merely tittered with amusement in response. “It was a tutoring session! Look. When the guy showed up to tutor me, Finnegan was being his usual charming self--”

“Are you hurt, Jim?” McCoy’s expression changed from amused to concerned, and he reached out and took Kirk about the chin, examining either side of his face. Jim screwed up his expression in defiant stubbornness, withdrawing from the doctor’s motherly tendencies.

“I’m fine, thanks to Spock.” Jim then let out a burst of laughter. “You should have seen it. Finnegan went to crack the guy--”

“Commander Spock?!” Bones yapped. “He’s his superior officer, what the fuck was he thinking?!-”

“He wasn’t! He went to crack him before he even turned around to look at him, and Spock just took him by the arm--” Jim reached out, grabbing McCoy by the forearm and imitated the motion that Spock had executed against Finnegan “just tossed him over his head like a rag doll. Just laid the bastard  **out** , hard. I mean I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“So he came to your rescue.” McCoy’s wry grin wiped the entertainment off Jim’s face, replacing it with an annoyed leer.

“Don’t even start, Bones--”

“Boah, he luh yeh! Sound to me like you gotchoself a Vulcan pet.” McCoy crowed, exaggerating a thick Southern accent.

“Smarten up Bones, you can’t just go around talking about other species like that here--”

“You mean I can’t talk about your new boyfriend that way in front of you!”

Jim put his face in his hands, groaning as the doctor cackled.

“Why am I friends with you.”

“Because if it weren’t for me patching you up all the God damn time you’d have fallen apart by now. Don’t forget it.”

“Bones, he’s not my boyfriend. Give me break, would you? I legitimately don’t even know the guy. I’m  _just_  getting to know him--”

“Oh Spock, I’m an idiot, I don’t want to leave things like this!” McCoy taunted, throwing his arm up and resting the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically. “Oh, it doesn’t feel right!” He howled, throwing himself back on the bed. “Make fun of me all you want, just as long as you don’t leave here feelin’—AGK!”

Jim had leapt at McCoy with a sock from the floor and promptly crammed it into the doctor’s mocking, agape mouth, earning a retch and a furious snarl of disapproval.

“Shut the fuck up. Seriously, shut the fuck up, or I’ll make you swallow it.”

McCoy spit the sock out and instantly quipped: “Yeah, I bet that’s what  **he**  said.”

He rushed out of the way of Jim’s arm swinging to smack him, hacking and laughing all at once as he rushed to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

“There is something wrong in your head, Bones. There is genuinely something wrong with you.”

“You’re a sick son of a bitch, Jim, and I can read you as easily as a tabloid headline. Never in my life have I seen a person make you go all shitty in the head and pathetic like that. Be serious with me now, and I don’t care either way. You like this guy, admit it.”

“BONES!”

The doctor stuck his head out, now brushing his teeth with his own toothbrush that he left in Jim’s quarters – that was how often he frequented the place.

“Sheriouthly. I won’t dudge. Itsh the 23rd thentury, Jim, geth over yourthelf.”

Jim’s face appeared in the doorway in the mirror behind him, grim and no-nonsense.

“I am giving you one more chance to drop this before I pants you and throw you out in the fucking hall, Bones. I am dead serious.”

“I am too!” Bones reiterated, finishing up and placing his toothbrush back in its place. “I’ve never seen you like this before, Jim. You’re as nervous as a school girl! And I suppose you guys are meeting up at 6 am for more “special tutoring”, are you?” Bones quoted with gusto, and Jim felt a jolt of mortification go through him as McCoy elbowed him slyly. Fuck. So he really had heard  **everything**. “Tutoring in what, exactly? The no pants dance? You’ve--”

“I’ll show you a fucking no pants dance” Jim spat, promptly launching himself at the instigator to do exactly what he had promised: he wrestled the doctor out of his trousers, forcibly ejected him out into the hall, and promptly slammed the door and twisted the lock. He began wheezing with laughter as McCoy banged uselessly outside the door, cursing as he unwillingly exposed his tribble boxers to any and all cadets who were present for the show.

 

\---

  
Spock attempted to call his mother and let it ring as he went around the room lighting candles. Amanda’s visage took form behind him on the screen that rolled down from the ceiling, and unbeknownst to him, she was wearing an expression that was a perfect blend of confusion and concern.

“Twice in one day, Spock? Either you’re actually homesick, or somebody died . . .” She chuckled as she was reaching for her cup of tea next to her and taking a hearty sip.

“Hello mother.” Spock said simply in response to her humour, walking forth and coming to a stop in front of the screen where she could get a good look at him. That’s when she suddenly spit out her mouthful of tea, sputtering and coughing, causing Spock to step forward in alarm almost instinctively, as if he could reach through that screen and help her. “Mother!--”

“I’m good!” She choked, thumping her own chest. “I’m good I’m good, I just – my God Spock! Look at you, what a difference from earlier!” She gushed, sitting forward to inspect him with wondrous eyes and a gigantic smile. Spock merely raised a brow, shaking his head slightly.

“I am once again perplexed by your discourse. I have made no alterations to my appearance since the conversation that transpired earlier.” Amanda was still sitting forward, engaged in reviewing his features eagerly.

“Are you kidding me? You’re positively glowing! You look – you look  **happy** , Spock, what happened?”   
Spock seemed both entertained and annoyed by her gift of observation. No matter how well he could deceive all the others, his mother could always tell what he was feeling.

“I have merely called to inform you that I delivered the apology which you so direly required me to provide before I dispersed for rest, lest you should travel to earth to lecture me as previously threatened.”

“Is that all that’s pleased you, really? It’s not like you to get like this, I can’t even remember the last time I saw you happy. Be honest with your mother, is it a girl?” Amanda pressed, and Spock had to hold back before he let himself go and scowl. “Because there are a few things the poor girl should know before getting involved with a Vulcan--”

“Mother really. A bit of tact and discretion would serve you well. If you must know, I have--”

“You’re blushing!!” Amanda pealed loudly, and Spock’s eyes widened marginally, thus indicating he was horrified.

“I am doing no such thing! As I had  **attempted**  to inform you, I believe, I have . . . unintentionally begun a friendship with a human.”

“A friend?” Amanda breathed, feeling her insides lighten and warm. She never realized it, but she had waited Spock’s whole life to hear him tell her that, and she was certain this was the first time. “Spock, are you being serious with me or are you teasing your mother?”

“I am a Vulcan mother, I do not tease.”

“Who is it?! Is it that guy you were bullying?”

“I did not bully him, mother, I merely – yes, it is Jim Kirk. We were designated as tutoring partners.”

“Did you just call him by his first name? No titles?”

Spock merely blinked at his mother’s excited fascination.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Spock, you really did make a friend!”

“Mother, please. If I were human, your overreaction to such a small matter would be borderline humiliating.” He narrowed his eyes slightly at her chuckle. “If, I were human.”

“Alright so I’m embarrassing you--”

“I am  **not** \--”

“You can spurt your Vulcan nonsense at me all you want, but I think you’re downplaying this. Spock, I gave birth to you. And from that moment onward, I have never heard of you making a friend. Ever. So whoever this guy is, he must be pretty damn special. I mean, what power or magic does this guy have? Jesus, is he a genius? Or he must be gorgeous. Or both--”

“Mother, that will suffice!” Spock said tersely. “Your incessant rambling is overwhelming.”

“Well what is it?” She asked shrilly, grinning. “Tell me about him! There’s got to be something! What is it about him that makes him suitable enough to be your first friend. Ever. In life.”

“I should not have called.” Spock regretted, closing his eyes for a moment in resigned frustration. “I was not prepared for this tirade . . .”

“Just tell me a few things about him and I’ll let you go. OK? Promise.”

“Very well, if you will honor your word” Spock nearly sighed. “He is intelligent.” Spock stated factually. “He is witty and rather vulgar, yet alarmingly compassionate. He showed genuine concern regarding my well-being, which is unusual for a human as they are so often preoccupied with satisfying themselves.”

“And how do you know all this about him already? You only met him a few days ago!”

“We spent the majority of the day together. I stumbled upon him in an unfortunate scenario. He was being assaulted by a petty officer by the name of Finnegan. I intervened.”

“Spock . . .” Amanda’s eyes were now leering slits of worry and reprimand.

“It is of no consequence. Finnegan required . . . minimal convincing. Jim was grateful. What I did not anticipate was his reaction to my informing him that I must report the incident. He requested I relent and provide the petty officer with another chance to prove himself worthy of Starfleet.”

“Sounds like trouble to me.”

“That was my initial personal belief as well. Yet he took pains to explain that Finnegan derived from a tumultuous upbringing that he was fortunate enough to escape, and that Starfleet may be his only opportunity for a better life. Hence should I report him, his chances of attaining a secure future would be nullified. Jim felt compassion for an individual who extended no offer of the same to him, and I found such a selfless gesture to be . . . admirable.”

Amanda was now looking upon her child, withholding the lump rising in her throat as she saw a version of her son that she had never previously seen. A human had somehow reached out and stirred that human part of him; that part of herself in him that she feared would be forever held prisoner for as long as he lived. This stranger named Jim had moved her son; had left some indelible impression on him, and it showed. It was amazing to her to see that glint of excitement in his dark, typically dulled eyes – to hear his voice kindled with a slight undercurrent of passion as he spoke. For the first time, he seemed awake – excited about something. It meant so much to her to see it, even if the average human might never be able to identify the small signals to indicate it.

“I have to admit, Spock. That does paint a pretty impressive picture of him.” She smiled, and that color rose to his cheeks again.

“It was not my intension to speak so frivolously. I simply found that encounter to be . . . truly fascinating. I had not anticipated the human capacity for selflessness as the majority of those I encountered were often exceedingly self-centered.”

“Excuse me?” Amanda asked wryly. “That’s the second time you’ve said that now. What are you saying about your mother?” She mocked offense, and nearly fell out of her chair when the corners of his mouth twitched, his eyes downcast. Was he . . . was he fighting off a smile?

“That is just it, mother. That is what I believe to have initially endeared me to his character.” His eyes lifted to meet his mother’s. “He reminds me of you.”

That did it. Spock observed with mild alarm as his mother put a hand to her mouth, brows scrunched with emotion, and her eyes brimmed.

“Oh mother, in Surak’s name, control yourself.”

But her eyes overflowed, and tears plummeted down her cheeks despite her best efforts to try to swat them away.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” She put her hand out and touched the screen, as if she could touch his face the way she used to when he was a child. “You’ve made me the happiest mother alive today.”

“Mother, I beg of you. Cease this rampant emotionalism. You have gotten quite out of control.  If father comes home--”

“Oh, just shut up Spock and let me have this.” She laughed thickly, still wiping at her eyes. “Christ. I’ve been a mother for decades and this is my  **one**  moment, now shut up.”  

\---


	8. Spock Gets to First Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got back from travelling the world a little. Guess who's back?

Jim arrived at the Starfleet recreation center bleary eyed and borderline unconscious as he shambled in like a re-animated corpse. He was irritated that Spock was already standing at the edge of a mat, straight backed, with arms held at the elbows behind him. His hair was slicked to perfection in a black tank and shorts. The sun was stroking its vibrant, golden fingers through the window, basking the two in light.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, man. Do you sleep?”

At the sound of Kirk’s voice, Spock turned and inclined his head in greeting. Jim walked up wearing a pair of dark grey sweats and a white tank, sporting two coffees and a duffle bag.

“Jim. Have you adequately stretched?”

Kirk glared at him with heavy lids, hair dishevelled, and sucked noisily at a lidded coffee.

“Do I look ready for life right now?”

Spock merely blinked, withholding intense amusement. His mother was never a morning person either, to the unlimited chagrin of his father.

“Would you genuinely appreciate a reply to that query?”

Kirk merely stuck a coffee out toward Spock in reply, who eyed it curiously, not taking the offered cup.

“Yes . . . I believe this liquid is a severe addiction on your planet, but the appeal is lost on me. Vulcans can survive for extended periods without sleep or nourishment, but I appreciate the gesture.”

“Well I guess Vulcans are just perfect then, aren’t they? Jesus. What do we have going for us that you guys don’t?”

“Flagrant displays of emotion and coffee shops, apparently.”

“Well, that’s that, I’m ready to kick your ass.” Kirk grinned sideways, laying the coffees down on a nearby bench and tossing his duffle bag down. 

“You are ill prepared.” Spock replied calmly. “You will stretch with me first. Come to the center of the mat.” Jim stared incredulously. Spock raised a brow.

“Was there a question in there, or-”

“It would put you at an unfair disadvantage if I did not at least allot you the opportunity to stretch and prepare.”

“Was that your very Vulcan way of saying that you’re positive that you’re going to kick my ass? That’s pretty cocky, Spock. You haven’t even seen what I’ve got.”

Spock promised himself he was not going to give into the very human habit of sighing today, but already it was a struggle.

“Please, Cadet Kirk. It is only customary. There is no ill intent involved.”

As Spock moved to the center of the mat and began doing head rotation neck stretches, Kirk begrudgingly joined in, matching the movement. Shoulder rotations were a natural progression, but Kirk barked out a loud laugh at hip rotations. Spock barely managed to conceal his glare.

“Is something strangely amusing Cadet?”

“I can’t – seeing you do that is – give me a minute.”

Kirk had to stand back on to Spock after trying and failing several times to start without erupting into giggles. He managed to get in two rotations back on, squawked out a burst of laughter, and went forward with his hands on his knees, laughing until he nearly choked.

“I can’t, I can’t. It’s too stupid.”

“Honestly. How humans manage to get anything done is an enigma beyond my comprehension. If you develop trochanteric bursitis after this match I shall not be held accountable.”

By the time Kirk had gotten over his fit he looked back to find that Spock was now standing with his arms held out at perfect 90 degree angles, swinging from left to right to stretch his torso. Jim joined in, still grinning like an idiot. They transitioned into wide, fierce arm circles, opening up the shoulders.

“Bend your knees slightly, feet hip width apart, back straight . . .” Spock directed, placing his hands on his knees. He began rotating his knees in circles to warm them up. He narrowed his eyes as Kirk had begun giggling again.

“What now, Cadet.”

“Do I look like a pretty lady?”

“Are you always this ludicrous when preparing for combat?”

“If I’m overtired and giddy then absolutely.”

“Drop your right hand between your shoulder blades. Use your left hand to pull your right elbow, lean into the stretch . . .good, other side . . . now hands out in front of you, clasp the fingers of your left hand in your right and stretch them backward . . . now, the other side . . .”

The pair stood in front of each other doing forward triceps stretches, then leaned forward with legs spread slightly to touch the floor with their knuckles.

“Walk your hands over to your left foot. Reach for the exterior of your foot with your right hand. Good. Opposite foot . . .” Spock reached a hand out to steady Kirk as they began standing quad stretches. Kirk smirked and shook his head.

“You must really think you’re going to kill me, don’t you. Getting me prepped for the kill.”

“Quite the contrary, Cadet, I hope to bestow you with knowledge on how to avoid exactly that. Face the wall and brace your hands against it. Bring your left leg forward and bend it while stretching the right. Switch . . . now I need you to spread your legs and get as close to the ground as possible.”

As Kirk gurgled and fought his way halfway down, he choked out a strangled sound of rage as he looked over to find Spock essentially in a split.

“Oh, COME on, what the hell Spock?--”

“Hands out in front of you, plant them firmly on the ground. Lean into the stretch.”

“My balls would like to have a word with you.”

“Your--” Spock cut short and his face flushed an indignant green at the look on Kirk’s face as realization dawned. “Really, Cadet. Have you always been so incessantly crass? Roll one foot onto your heel. Face it and lean in . . . other side . . .and come to center.”

“Oh, thank fuck, I was literally coming apart down there-”

“You will now sit while facing me on the mat. Spread your legs--”

“Is that all you want me for?--”

“Jim, please. Feet touching, form a diamond . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, I know this one” and Jim held out his hands. Spock was silent for a few moments, staring at the outstretched hands. He turned a brilliant shade of emerald and cleared his throat.

“On my home planet, this manoeuvre does not involve our hands. They are a very-” Jim took Spock’s hands in his, causing the widening of coffee dark eyes and the sound of a breath hitching sharply in Spock’s throat. Jim was entirely innocent of the fact, but he was now technically making out in a rather heated way with Commander Spock.

“Jim--” Spock’s voice was a strangled hiss.

“Stop being such a tight ass and lean back.”

Spock reluctantly let himself fall back into the move, stretching out his back, feeling helpless and positively trembling in Kirk’s hands. What could be done now that it was already happening? He did not want to make the situation more awkward than it already was. The gym was his idea, and he had invited a human. He silently thanked Surak that he was wearing black shorts, because he was growing positively aroused against his will. He had never found himself at such a horrifying impasse. This was entirely inappropriate for his culture, but commonplace in human culture. Was he not supposed to be making a valiant effort to be diplomatic and more explorative toward human culture?

“Um . . . are you OK? You’re really shaking over there.”

“Lean back cadet. Concentrate, please.”

Spock could feel his heart pounding in his side. This was actually the first time he had ever been so intimate with another being, however unintentional it was, but he could not deny it to himself; he enjoyed it. Jim was clasping his hands, head thrown back, arching his back as he dipped low to the floor, arm muscles tense, torso muscles taut . . .

“Why do you turn green so often? Is your blood green?” Jim said suddenly as he looked at him directly, perplexed, and Spock was inwardly horrified.

He _thought_ he’d been discreetly watching. Flustered, he stood abruptly and stalked off to retrieve two jump ropes.

“What?” Jim continued. “Is it some private cultural thing, or-”

“It is a sign of exertion.” It was not a lie, just not the whole truth. Spock dropped a jump rope next to Kirk on the mat. “Five minutes of cardio, Cadet.”

“You know, you can call me Jim, _Commander_.”

Having concluded the warm up, the pair now stood opposite each other in their own corners, staring each other down. Kirk was already wearing a bright-eyed smile, and began walking in a circle. Spock began moving with him.

“Jim.” Spock said simply. “What martial art forms have you practiced?”

This made Kirk bust out into a cheeky grin.

“Are bar fights considered a martial art form?”

Spock already lost the ability to resist sighing.

“I believe we should start with defensive manoeuvres – your ability to redirect or dismantle the momentum of an opponent’s attack is the most essential foundation in nearly any fighting technique.”

“Is that so?” Jim laughed. “And here I thought we were here to have fun. Oh come on, Spock. Just show me what you’ve got.”

“That is unwise, Jim.”

“I’ve been known to make unwise decisions. I didn’t get up this early to practice throws and rolls. Amuse me.”

“Do not-”

But it was too late. Kirk had already sprung forth, attempting to grapple with Spock, who brought his elbow down at the joint where Kirk had grasped his arm.

“Agk!” Jim choked, whipping a leg out to try to take Spock off balance. Spock’s hand lashed out and yanked Kirk forward by the leg. In a fluid motion he slipped down low and with his other arm, struck Kirk like lightening on the grounded leg behind the knee. Kirk tumbled forward and attempted to take Spock with him. Spock rolled with him and pinned Kirk face down to the mat with both knees, holding Jim’s arms down at the elbows. Kirk was mind blown. Spock looked deceptively skinny, but he felt so heavy. Kirk attempted to toss off Spock’s balance with a heave, bracing his knees, and Spock simply reached back, caught him by the ankles, and held them together. To Kirk’s astonishment, Spock had no problem keeping both ankles locked in a grip with one hand. Jim had beyond underestimated how strong Vulcans actually were.

“I feel like a fucking hog. And it’s early. You got lucky.”

“Indeed.” Spock was glad there was nobody else around, because he couldn’t help himself. He was definitely grinning by now, however minimal it was. “Then you are welcome to try again.”

The two faced each other, Kirk scowling, Spock’s eyes lively and the edges of his mouth twitching with the effort to suppress his grin. Jim was fast, trying to land punch after kick after lunge, but Spock blocked or dodged them all. He struck like a cobra, catching every fist, dodging every kick, slipping out of the way like butter to let Jim tumble forth in a vain effort to at least get his weight on Spock. While Spock refused to go on the offensive toward Jim in any way, he showed mastery in defense. Kirk was astounded that even when Spock would bring down a hand to chop at Kirk’s elbows or knees to break a hold or take him off balance, it hurt like a bitch.

“Jesus, my elbows and knees. I’m going to look like a weekend whore by the time you’re done with me.”

“Are you injured?” Spock paused, moving in to inspect Jim’s elbow closely, and he began to bring his hand up to touch. Realizing what he was doing, he retracted quickly. Suddenly, he found himself flipped and pinned to the mat.

Spock swallowed down a well of laughter so suddenly that his throat stung. He could easily throw the human off, but he felt like letting Jim have this.

“Jim . . . I believe that is what is colloquially known to humans as fighting dirty.”

Kirk got up and left Spock lying on the mat, racing circles around him with fists in the air held victorious, laughing and crowing like a madman.

“Dirty bar fights! I got my techniques. YEAH!” He swooped in to bark that right in Spock’s unblinking face.

“A pity victory?” Spock raised a brow. Jim, still laughing, held out a hand to help Spock up. The Vulcan chose to climb up his arm, righting himself. Spock was shaking his head at Jim’s smug glee. The human walked to his own corner of the mat, still grinning brilliantly, and then did a modest, helpless shrug.

“But in all seriousness, please help me. You’re a beast. How the fuck did you learn to move like that, and can you teach me?”

It was Spock’s turn to fight down the pride and smugness that erupted in him at Jim’s compliment.

“On my planet, it is known as Suus Mahna. It is an ancient Vulcan fighting style that combines forms similar to that of the human styles Muay Thai and Shaolin, but it is primarily related to Baguazhang. Defense is your ally. Studying force and how evasion can aid in your retention of energy is essential. One can use their opponent’s force against them with little exertion of their own. When your opponent is unsteady, it is then that you must strike with the intent of disarming them. You are not seeking to injure your opponent, but to subdue them. Submission is your goal, but in life threatening situations, there are other teachings which will enable one to finish their opponent. I am grateful I have never had to use them.”

Jim looked positively enraptured, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in awe. “Oh, you have got to show me one of those moves.”

“Jim, you do not so much as have a proper stance or defensive techniques, and you request that I teach you lethal combat?”

“So that’s a hell no, I’m guessing.”

Spock stared at him long, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Stance one. Please follow my lead.”

\--

“So you’ve lived to see another day.” McCoy’s gruff voice sounded from the doorway as Jim was throwing off his cadet uniform to switch into pyjamas. “Sorry I missed lunch, the lab was in chaos when a sample petri dish containing a flesh eating bacteria- what in holy hell?” McCoy abruptly cut his tirade short with the outburst, coming forward and taking Jim’s elbow. “What the fuck happened to you? Finnegan _again_?”

“Nope. Remember I told you I was going to the gym this morning before class?”

“With the Asian Beatle?”

“Spock.”

“And by the looks of things, you guys went to Wrestlemania instead?”

Jim simply laughed and threw the white cotton t-shirt over his head.

“He’s stronger than I thought. A lot stronger.”

“Are we talking about the same guy? The skinny reed of an alien you just started dating?”  
  
“We’re not dating.” Jim glared. “Apparently Vulcans have three times the strength of a human, and twice the speed.”

“Jesus.” McCoy mumbled. “Remind me never to piss one off.”

“Vulcans have their own martial art form called Suus Mahna. He’s training me in it so I can start dealing with Finnegan properly.”

“Well . . . that’s awfully generous of him, all things considered.”

Jim turned to look at McCoy carefully, knowing his pension for shit disturbing. He was just waiting for it.

“Alright McCoy, I’ll bite.”

“Apparently, Vulcans don’t take kindly to outsiders learning anything about their cultural habits. Not only that, but I found out that Commander Spock has apparently been one of the most stand-offish officers in the fleet. Up to this point, everybody I have spoken to knows of him, but they’ve never gotten close enough to know any personal thing about him. As in, the guy has never made a single friend in Starfleet.” McCoy gave Jim an enduring, sidelong glance. “That is, ‘til now. What do you think makes you so special?”

“I don’t know.” Jim shrugged, crossing the room to take McCoy’s flask from his back pocket, popping it open to take a swig, and grinning at the doctors scowl as he stole one. “I’m pretty?”

“You’re an idiot, Jim. Just be careful. There’s a lot we don’t know about Vulcans.”

“And there’s a lot I don’t know about you, McCoy, and don’t want to know. But I still let you have a key to my apartment, despite how terrifying you are.”

“Touché. But if you’re going to have this guy around, I want to meet him.”

“So you’re my mom away from home now?”

“Yes and no. The guy is a freaking enigma on campus. How can everybody know him and not even know the guy’s full name?”

“Spock isn’t it?”

“Nope. It’s like in Asian culture, Spock is his given name, but nobody knows his first lineal Vulcan name.”

“Admit it. You find him interesting, too.”

McCoy snatched back his flask, took a healthy swig, and swept his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re like a fly to shit when it comes to trouble, and I’ve got a feeling you’re getting yourself into it again. I just want to be prepared for what I’m inevitably in for.”

“You just think every friend I get has to pass your inspection.”

A grunt of a laugh and McCoy sucked at the flask again before replying.

“That’s a given.”

“What if you hate each other? This is the first alien I ever made friends with in Starfleet. If he agrees, you better not fuck this up for me. You scare off all my friends, and I’m so charming, too.”

“Oh, I plan on it, Jim.” He gave the flask back to Jim and patted it against his chest. “Consider it a date. Let’s get your buddy out for a drink tomorrow night and let him get a taste of McCoy.”

Jim looked worriedly at Bones, tilted the flask back, and polished it off.

“Liquid courage.”

“Believe me -- he’ll need it more than you will.”

“I doubt that.”

\---

 


	9. You Think I'd Fuck Someone for a PADD?

_“It hasn't been easy on Spock. Neither human nor Vulcan. At home nowhere except Starfleet.” – Amanda Grayson, Journey to Babel, S2E10._

\--

Spock had been up for far too long, having already engaged in his morning rituals of stretches, reading, meditation, and preparing his own breakfast. It was only 7:30 am. He was now pacing, having dared to hope that the meditation would ease the fluttering anxiety that he combated with every day in the face of anything that should arouse his human half.

He had spent a lifetime trying to stifle that half, to operate in life as if it were dormant, non-existent even, somewhere buried deep in his core. It was closer to the surface than most anyone would anticipate.

The truth of the matter was, his mother had been right.

He had never known friendship in the whole of his life.

He had spent his entire childhood feeling so isolated, so alone, so apart from all the rest.

It wasn’t for lack of trying.

With no experience it was so much harder to suppress his human half as a child. With nobody to guide him, he stumbled blind through his youth. He was the only living example of his kind, was made to feel as if he should never have existed at all, and he felt the isolation of it. The loneliness was unbearable. His emotions were ever close to the surface, ready to bust forth with each cold, cruel word issued from Vulcans who found his very existence to be an affront to their very culture and nature. Their words stabbed him deeply, cut him time and again – children and adults alike, issuing hateful words or worse, distant, icy silence. His family had all of the luxury and accolades that came with the prestige of his family name, but he would never know any of the comforts with him. Socially, he was a black sheep.

He would reach out, desperate for a connection, over and over again.

He was consistently met with malice or complete indifference.

Endless rejection taught him that he had to bottle up his human half or succumb to the prickling sadness.

He had to become stone cold to survive. He had to learn to live and depend on nobody but himself.  
In place of kinship he sought out books, computers, knowledge – the only companion he had ever chosen that did not turn him aside. He desperately tried to fill the void within with all of the knowledge he could. Perhaps his brilliance could compensate for his unfortunate lineage. Perhaps he would be accepted on his planet if he pushed himself hard enough. Test after exam after competition after acceptance letter, he tackled each mental challenge with gusto and was drowning in accomplishments. He would have traded it all for a drop of friendship, but it never came.

It nearly crushed his human spirit entirely.

He got used to being alone.

The only semblance of a companion he had attained in his lifetime had been his sehlat I-Chaya, and he had spent many a shameful evening with his face buried in the side of the only friend who would have him, the thick fur soaking up any evidence of the profound sorrow or loneliness that became his only other constant next to the textbooks. Spock regretted how short a time they had been together. When I-Chaya succumbed to his injuries dealt by the le-matya in the desert, Spock felt that the guilt and tearing grief would consume him. His only companion had laid down his life in defense of him, and now he was gone. The pain was so terrible that he wondered if forming friendships were even worth the agony that came when they ended.

His mother would not always be there, and when that day came, he would be entirely without the comfort of affection or attention from anyone. He would become the only one he could trust.

He grew to despise, to resent his human half – to push it away and chamber it into a compartment like the product of some shameful cuckold. If it weren’t for his human half, he would not have to feel the pang of loneliness. He would not know the searing burn of words, of rage, of tears. His mother and father had bestowed upon him an impossible burden; to feel everything and to be expected not to, to have no one, to be at home nowhere. Nobody had ever truly extended out an olive branch unless it was to their advantage, and it had been so long since he had dared to want one, he forgot what it might be like to have a friend.

He had met many people from different walks of life, but the prestige of his father’s name had often rendered him some pawn in someone else’s game. On Vulcan, he was a product of shame. His very existence was a testimony to his father’s inability to adhere to logic; a relinquishment of their very way of life. He was living proof of his father’s abandonment of logic in pursuit of passion, and he could see it on his father’s face. Sarek could not stand to look at him, for his existence was evidence of his father’s weakness. On Earth, he was merely an advantageous name that one could use to further their own career, or a name whispered behind the back of someone’s hand as he passed by, like some creature of myth.

Truth be told, Jim Kirk was the first person to simply hold out his hand in greeting and basically say, “Hi. Let’s be friends.”

Jim was the first person in Spock’s life who just wanted to get to know him, nothing more.

Spock was trying his hardest to contain his human feelings on this, but it was very difficult.

For starters, Jim had gotten far more intimate with him than he had been ready for via cultural misunderstandings alone. He had been so mortified by the encounter at the gym that he had been rendered speechless. Worse than that, he had found the encounter more than pleasant.

By Vulcan standards, the two were already going steady, and Spock hadn’t even known him a week. They barely knew each other, and Spock had physically gone further with him than with any other individual in his lifetime by complete coincidence. Jim had no idea about this, and this only added another complicated layer of emotion onto the pile for Spock. He was thrilled, he was terrified, he was attracted, he was repulsed, and of course he was humiliated.

Was this what friendship was?

That would be enough fretting for one day.

He sat down on the floor in irritation, having nearly pressed a tread into the floor from his pacing.

One more brief meditation session, and he decided he would do it.

He was going to walk to class with Jim Kirk.

He was going to let himself dare to extend the olive branch of friendship.

\---

Jim stopped short outside his dorm room with his armful of books, doing a double take across the hall, his heart briefly fluttering at the sight of Spock waiting for him.

“Holy Christ.” He stumbled forward as McCoy brought up solid against his back.

“Ow Jesus, What? Oh fuck!” Bones sputtered as the still Vulcan remained standing where he was, directly across from Jim’s door.

The three awkwardly stared between each other, Spock a little less obvious. McCoy was positively leering at Jim, a smug look on his face.

“Naw, you’re not dating.” And he started off down the hall. “He just waits for you now.”

Jim put a hand to his face with a loud huff of resignation. This had to be a new record. It was barely 8 am, and already he was humiliated.

Spock’s eyes followed Bones, one eyebrow perched high. Jim still had a hand over his face.

“I believe there is a misunderstanding.”

“Just don’t. There always is with Bones.”

Both eyebrows were up now.

“Bones?”

“McCoy.”

“I see.” The pair fell into step with one another and began walking down the hall towards class. Spock was silent for a moment, then:

“Does McCoy frequent your living space?”

“McCoy frequents all of my space, unfortunately.”

Spock was holding himself together well, considering the curiosity that was now positively eating him alive from the inside out. Not to mention the fact that his human half was irrationally disarmed by the sight of McCoy coming out of Jim’s room – what was he doing in there? As he was wearing the same ensemble that he had worn yesterday, it was clear that he had stayed at Jim’s room. Why? Were they intimate? Spock then felt the sear of dissatisfaction with himself and the ludicrous train of his thoughts before his Vulcan half clamped down on them. _Have some semblance of control over your mind. You are Vulcan. How James Kirk occupies the time he has at his disposal impacts you in no way. To dwell on such trivialities would be illogical._ The only indication one could gather as evidence for his mental war was his pressing his lips together briefly. That seemed enough, and Jim started off on a red-faced, babbling explanation that he seemed to deem necessary.

“I’m not – I mean _we’re_ not – he’s my best friend. We aren’t--”

Spock looked at Kirk rather dryly.

“Dating?”

“If that ever happens, put me out of my misery.”

Spock turned to Kirk before stepping into Vaidya’s class, inclining his head rather curtly.

“It is of no consequence. As I am Vulcan the personal lives of humans are an irrelevant matter.”

Jim delivered a smug, challenging grin.

“And how about that human half?”

Spock offered up a deadpan expression before sliding into the room.

“OK.” Jim nodded. “Avoiding the question entirely.”

Vaidya’s lecture today was regarding the history and culture of Klingons. Spock was discreetly glancing at Kirk every few moments, inwardly amused at how engaged he was in the lesson. At some points, he was actually gripping the edge of his desk. His brow furrowed at the concept of R’uustai. He gaped and then audibly gasped at the details of murdering one for honor in the act of Mauk-to 'Vor. Jim’s hand shot up when Vaidya prompted someone to recite and then translate the proclamation of the Age of Ascension.   
  
"DaHjaj SuvwI'e' jiH. tIgwIj Sa'angNIS. Iw bIQtIq jIjaH. Today I am a Warrior. I must show you my heart. I travel the river of blood.”

Vaidya looked at Jim over his glasses, seeming slightly taken aback.

“Cadet Kirk, excellent pronunciation. Have you taken any courses in xenoliguistics?”

“No, sir, I have not. I’ve been waitlisted for next semester.”

As Vaidya began elaborating on the details of the Age of Ascension ritual, Spock adhered his focus to the lecture, plugging away notes in his PADD furiously. Suddenly he heard a crinkling sound and felt a piece of paper graze his left hand. Without giving any indication of distraction, he allowed himself the smallest flick of a glance down by his left hand. He then returned his eyes to the front. Inside, he was horrified. Jim had passed him a note in class, the very class that they had gotten reprimanded in the last time they were here.

He waited a moment, then without letting his eyes leave the front, slid the note beneath his PADD and glanced down briefly. Scrawled on the paper in untidy, looping, lively letters was the following:

_How was my pronunciation? Was it just like we practiced?_

Spock did not even look at the paper, just discreetly nabbed the pencil Jim had provided and with a few tiny flicks of his wrist, responded.

  
Jim waited for Spock to hand it to him in anticipation. He didn’t. Jim waited for Vaidya to put his back to the lecture hall and snatched the paper and pencil. He looked at the paper and was astounded that without even looking at the paper, Spock had produced flawless cursive – so perfect that it could have been printed. He had written only three words:

_Jim. Do not._

Kirk stifled a laugh and promptly began his unruly scrawls again. Spock swallowed down an impatient huff, mildly outraged that Kirk was actually keeping this going in a lecture hall.

Spock clenched his teeth, keeping the lid on his anxiety as the note made it back to him before Vaidya turned around again. He glanced down.

_How can you write like that without even looking? Anyway, are you mad at me or something?_

_Stop, Jim._

_Is it the McCoy thing? I swear I’m not dating him._

_I care not. We will be reprimanded. STOP._

_Can we talk after class?_

_WE MAY IF YOU CEASE THIS IMMEDIATELY._

_Did you seriously just handwrite all caps in cursive? My place or yours?_

Spock refused to respond at this point, but he got poked by the pencil and this time he audibly let out a heated sigh through his nose. He looked down once more.

_Fine. I’m coming to your place._

At Jim’s noisy snort of a chuckle which he failed to choke down, Vaidya snapped around with a glare.

“Is something funny, Mr. Kirk?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, drinking poisonous tea with your best friend to remind each other that death is better shared?”

“And do you not agree, or does the concept of dying alone appeal to you?” Vaidya raised his brows.

“Well for starters I prefer a beer with a friend, myself.”

The room lifted with titters and giggles, but Vaidya seemed in a great mood today, for he was actually smiling back at Kirk.

“And other cultures find the numbing of the senses both a reckless and self-destructive habit.”

“I can’t argue with that logic. Each to their own, I guess that’s why we’re here.”

\--

Kirk sped a couple of steps to fall into a strut next to Spock in the corridor as throngs of plebes bustled to their next class.   
  
“Your efficiency has marginally improved since our last lecture.”

“Is that the Vulcan way of saying nice save?”  
  
Spock stopped short to turn and look fully at Kirk, who all but brought up hard against Spock’s chest at the sudden halt.

“Whoa there--”

“No. And do not ever distract me with hand written notes during a lecture again.”

Spock was uncomfortable with how Kirk’s grin stirred his insides with warmth.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. So are we going to your place, or-”

“Was that not the agreement?”

“I’m really curious about what a Vulcan living space looks like.”

“I have a schedule and an item to give to you. Otherwise, I would not permit it.”

“A present? But I barely know you!”

Spock merely leered and quietly led Kirk the way across campus, listening to Jim’s commentating in silence.

\--

When they approached Spock’s chalet, Jim balked at the sight of it.

“Whoa! You’re living that chalet life on campus, huh? Jesus. This place looks fancier than my real house back in Iowa. How’d you get so hooked up?”

“My tuition was paid. Unfortunately, my father is an honoured diplomat and that has served to impact how I am treated here.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry for you that you have a rich, famous daddy.”

Spock turned sharply and looked coldly down at Jim.

“I do not desire preferential treatment that I myself have not earned. My father’s reputation is not a reflection of my own, and therefore any treatment I am on the receiving end of should be accredited to my abilities or achievements and mine alone.”

Jim blinked.

“I see we hit a soft spot there.” He clapped his hands together. “OK, I get it. I felt the same. That’s the very reason I never announced who my father was when I enlisted and paid for it myself. I don’t want those shoes to fill or whatever comes with the name.”

Spock paused at the door before opening it, turning to Kirk with curious eyes.

“Who is your father?”

Kirk grinned.

“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

Spock merely turned, unlocked the door, and went inside.

“Take off your shoes.” Spock ordered, entering with the lights automatically lifting with each step he took. Kirk was frozen in his spot, looking around like a kitten taking in new surroundings.

“Oh my God . . .”

To Spock’s abashed mortification Jim immediately began pouring over each figure, each weapon, each text, running his fingers along book spines, furniture, fine cloths, but Spock had to draw the line when Kirk picked up his lyre.

“What are you some kind of harp player?”

Spock snatched it back.

“It is a Vulcan lute. I am the second most proficient on the instrument on my home planet.”

“Well aren’t you the Hendrix of Vulcan.” Jim snorted, earning a dull look from Spock. “So who’s number one?”

Spock stared down at the instrument before placing it back where it belonged. He turned and walked out of the room, but his voice carried back:

“My father.”

Jim cringed. Mental note to himself, avoid daddy talk at all times with this guy. Spock returned with a sheet of paper and a PADD.

“These are for you. These are the times I have available each week for tutoring. Unfortunately I have a plethora of work throughout the week, but Thursday mornings we may meet at the gym, Monday and Wednesday nights we may meet for tutoring. Are those time intervals sufficient?”

Kirk was busy looking at the PADD in his hands before trying to give it back.

“You handed me your PADD there.”

“It is yours.” Spock insisted, keeping his arms locked behind his back.

Kirk just stared between it and Spock, who was inexplicably starting to gain a little green coloring along his cheeks.

“I didn’t lend one to you. Mine was ravaged by Finnegan, remember?”

“I have multiple tablet computers at my disposal; in no way would I be inconvenienced by losing one. You cannot continue attending lectures with pencil and paper.”

“No no no I can’t do that.” Jim shook his head, pressing it back against Spock’s chest. “It’s way too expensive--”

“Believe me, Jim--” Spock pushed it back into Kirk’s arms “monetary value is of no consequence to me. I shall not tutor someone who is utilizing the most rudimentary methods of note taking.”

“Spock--”

“That will be all on the matter. Now if you will permit me, I have multitudes of work that I must attend to.”

“Um . . . I’m, wow, Spock. That’s- Thank you. There’s generous and then there’s -- It was going to take me months to save up for another one, even with Bones chipping in to help out. This means a lot, really. Thank you.”

“It is only logical.” The only indication of the warmth Spock felt showed in his eyes.

“Which reminds me!” Jim snapped his fingers and then pointed. “Bones wants you to come out with us. Tonight. Sorry I forgot to ask earlier, are you doing anything, or . . .”

Jim trailed off at how narrow Spock’s eyes had gotten.

“I have just finished informing you that I have a plethora of work to attend to this evening.”

“Um . . . can any of it wait?” Kirk shrugged. “I’d really like you to come out. We were thinking of going to the Argellus II Breezeway, you know, the bar just off campus, have a few drinks-”

“Absolutely not.” Spock answered curtly. Jim gave Spock an innocent, incredulous look.

“What, are you too good for that?”

“Do I look like an individual who partakes in frivolous activities while impeding my senses with illicit substances, Cadet Kirk?” Spock was looking rather sharply at him.

“Um . . . I guess not?”

“Do you recall how Vaidya mentioned earlier during the lecture how, and I quote: “other cultures find the numbing of the senses both a reckless and self-destructive habit?””

“I do . . .”

“Consider my culture among them.” Spock said matter-of-factly, showing Kirk the door, but Jim just stood there with his arms folded.

“Don’t you mean half of your culture? Are you not half human? Are you not even remotely curious about that half of your lineage, or do you just consider yourself entirely Vulcan?”

Spock put a hand on Kirk’s lower back and guided him outside.

“There is nothing to consider. I am a Vulcan. Good evening.”

“But-”

The door shut in Kirk’s face.

\--

“Spock, I’m surprised that poor boy still wants to know you.”

Spock was avoiding the gaze of his mother on-screen by folding his laundry, keeping his hands occupied so his eyes could follow.

“Really, mother. I can see no viable positive outcome in placing myself in such an environment.”

“Yes, God forbid you let yourself have a bit of fun.”

“Define fun. Define fun on your terms, for I can assure you, it shall surely deviate from what I deem to be an enjoyable encounter.”

“I know what you like to believe, Spock, but I am sitting here as living proof that you have human blood running through your veins.”

“Mother, I do not believe this is the correct time to insult me.”

At the silence that followed his comment, Spock realized his own error and stopped the chore to look up at his mother. She was positively scowling.

“Spock. Unless you want to really insult your mother, you better not be telling me that you’re ashamed of my genes. Tell me to my face. Are you ashamed of me?” Amanda stood, rounding the table she was sitting behind so that her face took up the screen hanging from Spock’s ceiling. “Tell me right now. After all I have done for you in my life. Are you ashamed of me Spock?”

The Vulcan had now taken to staring at the floor, and there were few times in his adulthood that he had struggled with the humiliating burn in his chest that he knew would eventually evolve into tears. He suppressed it. How he resented tears. Only his mother had the capability of connecting with his human half this way. He finally looked up.

“Whatever I believe of myself, I shall never be ashamed of you, mother. That is a constant that you must be assured of.” At that, he tentatively put his hand out to the screen to touch it, and his mother answered it with her own fingertips.

“However you feel about the human part of you, Spock, please remember. That’s me in there. That is the part of me that you carry with you. Please don’t be ashamed of it. I know what your father taught you, but I am here now.”

Spock was silent for a moment, reeling back from the emotionalism threatening to bubble its way over the lid that he had so carefully crafted to contain it.

“You cannot deny, mother. It is a rather complicated and adversarial lineage that you and father have crafted and chosen to bestow me with.”

At that comment, Amanda cackled freely, tossing her head back.

“Oh yeah? You don’t know what I went through dating him. Until you’ve fought in that trench, don’t come crying to me.”

Spock seemed to press his lips together with disapproval.

“Spare me the details, mother.”

She got that wicked look on her face that Spock often dreaded.

“I will, if you call Jim.”

“I shall not.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen? Really.”

Spock raised a brow, stepping forward.

“Is that a genuine inquiry? Would you like to hear the multi-faceted variations on how this evening could end disastrously for me should I partake in human festivities?”

“Spock, enough.” Amanda swiped a hand at him. “I am sick to death of your excuses. Now you’re on Earth right now because you were so hell bent on Starfleet that you and your father have stopped speaking to each other and for what? You want to go into deep space, into the unknown, meeting cultures that could be far more emotional or irrational than humans? What then? How will you react to that?”

“Mother, is now really the time to begin a debate regarding-”

“There is no debate.” Amanda said smartly. “You’re going into space, son, where you are actually going to live instead of recite the concept of infinite diversity in infinite combinations. How will you handle that if you can’t even come to terms with the culture that makes up an entire half of your DNA?”

Just silence. Amanda knew when he grew quiet like that, he was listening – and she was right.

“Listen, son. This is an open opportunity for you to test your own limits. Get out there. Interact with other cultures. Get your feet wet, because Lord knows you don’t get to dip your toe in when you’re out there in space. You’re going to go in head first.”

Spock let out the tiniest of sighs through his nose, and began to nod.

“Your logic is sound.”

“Damn right it is. I haven’t lived on this planet this long without picking up a few tricks of the trade. It’s time you learned some of your own. And you finally have a friend for the first time in the history of your life, so could you kindly not ruin that before I get a chance to meet him?”

At this comment, Amanda could easily detect the sudden surge of horror in her son that manifested itself only in the widening of his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. If this thing keeps going, I’m eventually going to have to meet Jim Kirk.”

Spock merely maintained that mildly stricken look on his face and raised his hand in the Vulcan salute to his mother.

“I bid you goodnight, mother. Live long and prosper.”

“Sure, Spock. Live long, party hard.”

At his wide eyed, tight lipped expression, Amanda bust out cackling and waved her hand at the screen.

“I know, I’m so bad to you. Sorry Spock, I was at a function with your father – you know how I like that Romulan Ale.”

Spock just maintained his composure and endured.

“Of course.”

\--

Jim put down his phone and turned to Bones excitedly.

“He’s coming!”

McCoy stopped fixing his hair in the mirror and looked over at Jim with a smug grin.

“You look like an excited school girl.”

“And you look like a stud. Stop primping yourself in the mirror.”

“Well?” McCoy turned around, gesturing to himself. “Be honest. If you were a woman, would you fuck me?”

Jim laughed. “Dinner first, McCoy.”

McCoy grinned, bypassing Jim to get to the mini fridge to snatch up his flask.

“Tennessee whiskey, Jim. Drink up.” He offered the sliver of a container. Bones waited until Jim brought the metal lip to his mouth before asking: “But seriously though, Jim. What is going on with you and this guy? You get all worked up and nervous about him. I mean when do you ever care what anyone thinks?” McCoy’s hand gestures were escalating at an alarming rate. “And the guy just randomly gave you a pimped out four thousand dollar PADD and you’ve known him for what. Two, three days? Be honest. Did you sleep with him?”

Jim spat out some of the amber liquid in shock.

“HEY NOW, that’s my supply from home!-”

“You think I’d fuck someone for a PADD? Jesus, Bones!” Kirk snatched up a pillow and whipped McCoy across the face.

“I’m sorry” McCoy cackled, punching the pillow away. “I’m sorry, it’s awfully suspicious, Jim.”

“He said he had plenty of them kicking around.” Jim flushed, combing his anarchic hair in the mirror more out of anxiousness than necessity.

“I bet he says that to all the boys.” Bones elbowed Kirk, earning him a hard look from the younger man.

“Look. You want to know the deal, fine. But I don’t really know it myself yet. I can’t really explain it, I just – I’m fascinated. Wouldn’t you be? I’ve never met anyone like him. I’ve never had an alien as a friend before.”

“With benefits?” McCoy tittered, taking his own swig from the flask as Jim turned to him with a stern expression. He looked at Bones so squarely that he made him pause, mid sip. Kirk put a finger in McCoy’s face

“Leonard, I am dead fucking serious right now.” His finger jabbed to punctuate each word. “Do not embarrass me tonight.”

“Oh my sweet Lord.” Bones gaped. “You must be serious. Who the fuck do you think you are, calling me Leonard. My mother? When have you ever called me Leonard? I don’t like it, Jim.”

“I’m serious, Bones. Please. I’m begging you to be good. He’s been really nice to me. Nicer than you.” Jim guffawed, earning him a shove.

“Whatever. Excuse me for not being a rich, brilliant smart ass ambassador’s son with perfect hair who’s trained in some lethal ritualistic martial art. I’m just a good old country boy, Jim. I’ll do my best, but I have no fucking idea how to act around a Vulcan.”

“Do not ask questions. Do not be a dick.” Jim snatched the flask right from McCoy’s lips. “And for fuck’s sake, don’t get too drunk, OK?”

“So don’t be myself?”

“Oh, shut up, Bones.”

There was a knock at the door, three succinct raps. The two turned to look at each other.

Jim immediately rushed to the mirror and began fussily running his hands over his hair, straightening out his clothes, and straightening his shoulders in his reflection. McCoy had had enough.

“You fucking school girl.” He reprimanded, crossing the room and heading for the door.

“No don’t!” Jim hissed, diving for it himself, but Bones yanked the door open unceremoniously, still holding the flask. He immediately tilted it back and sucked a shot from it as a greeting to the mildly affronted alien standing on the other side.

“Want some?” He asked, offering the tin of liquor to the prim Vulcan, to which Spock minutely pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at the outstretched container.

Jim was already feeling the heat of embarrassment and had the distinct feeling that this night was already a God damn disaster.

\--


	10. So What You're Telling me is, Everyone on Vulcan is a Bisexual

\--

The first shock of the night had come when the Vulcan curiously eyed the flask and took it in response to McCoy’s blunt offering.

“This particular alcohol is named what?”

“Tennessee whiskey.” McCoy bounced on his heels proudly. “We’re country boys, Spock. Drink up.”

A slight lift of a brow and Spock took a sip.

Kirk and McCoy exchanged a giddy look of astonishment.  
_  
We might actually get an alien drunk with us._

Spock handed back the flask passively, seemingly unaffected.

“Too strong for you?” McCoy teased, to which Spock merely tilted his head with narrowed eyes.

“Have you gentlemen ever heard of Romulan Ale?”

“It’s banned.” Kirk murmured, to which Spock nodded.

“I see now with good reason. Clearly humans have a very low threshold and capacity for alcohol retention.”

“Are you trying to say that the whiskey is weak?”

Spock merely nodded.

“Indeed, it is quite mild. I would require a large quantity if there is to be an impact, but I have no desire to become inebriated this evening or any that may follow.”

“Too late.” McCoy rubbed his hands together wickedly. “Challenge accepted.”

Kirk had managed to walk the two of them most of the way to the bar without them killing each other yet, so he deemed that a win. As they approached the doors, Bones turned to Spock and queried:

“So, ever been to a human bar?”

“Never in my lifetime have I desired entry to a drinking establishment.”

“So only a Vulcan bar?”

Spock glared.

“Vulcans do not have bars.”

“Remind me never to go to Vulcan.”

“So, wait – you’ve never been to a bar before? Period?” Jim turned full circle, bringing him and Spock nearly chest to chest. “Are you sure you want to go in there? Is this against your culture, or-”

“He’s half human, Jim. And a grown man.” McCoy took Spock by the sleeve and pulled him forward, Jim following with a brow creased with worry.

“Wait wait wait--”

“McCoy offers a valid point, Jim. You concern is unwarranted--”

“Aren’t you going to think less of us though?” Jim now had the other sleeve, and McCoy buckled over with an obnoxious chuff of laughter. “What? Wait. I mean all of us, you know -- humans.”

“Jesus Christ, Jim . . .”

Spock paused to take in Kirk’s genuinely worried expression, and suppressed the swell of amusement that filled his chest at the sight.

“There are a plethora of reasons for me to think less of humanity. One more reason can be of no consequence.”

Spock walked inside.

Jim and Bones looked at each other in horrified glee.

“Bones, that was absolutely savage.”

“That son of a bitch just burned all of mankind.”

They were still laughing about it when they trailed after Spock through the doors. The heat and music exploded through that partition. McCoy and Jim saw plenty of people that they recognized, and they moved through the crowd under a barrage of encounters. Drunken greetings, slapping hands, head nods of acknowledgement were being exchanged like rapid fire. It was easy to get caught up in the moment, the energetic high and the hypnotic lights, the sounds . . .

Jim found himself strangely captivated tonight, everyone touching and speaking to him seemed to be reaching out to him through a fog.

He had stopped noticing when people waved or shouted out gleefully as he passed by, because he was watching that sleek, raven-capped shape move with quiet grace through the throng. It was fascinating, to see someone wholly immersed in such a chaotic atmosphere and have none of that madness penetrate their being. It rolled off Spock like water gliding down the feathers of a duck. It was almost painful to see him here; embarrassing, even.

He made them all look like animals.

He was too good for this place, and it showed. He didn’t exude that. He was sure Spock didn’t believe that, either. There was no pomposity on the Vulcan’s part. He just was, plain and simple.

Jim also noticed that he wasn’t the only one hypnotized by this otherworldly figure that cut through the crowd like an elegant cat.

“Is that guy half human or Deltan?” McCoy snickered. “A lot of people in this room look like they want to eat him alive.”

Jim felt a stab of something – Jealousy? Discomfort? He was so far from thinking about himself right now that he couldn’t be sure. But women sauntered and brushed up against Spock as he passed; eyes devoured him; some men were grinning from a booth, talking behind their hands, feasting with their eyes.

“Are you choking on something?”

Jim didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled loudly and sucked in a breath.

“I need a beer now.”

“I need a beer always.”

“I shall attain a table.” Spock was right in front of them again suddenly out of the crowd, and Jim jumped. “Bring me what you surmise to be an agreeable Terran beverage.” 

“Did Spock just ask you to buy him a drink?”

“No, I’m pretty sure he **told** me to.”

“Well, apparently whiskey isn’t strong enough for him.”

As they were ordering at the bar, they overheard a small group of girls discussing Spock.

“Not a cold chance in hell, Danika.” A red head sporting a yellow crop top and leather pants cackled at an enchanted looking, dark-haired woman with striking green eyes. “Just don’t.”

“And why not? I bet I know Vulcans better than anyone in this room.” The dark haired girl retorted, self-consciously adjusting her snug wine coloured dress.

“Then you should know they ain’t easy.”

McCoy looked wide-eyed in Jim’s direction, positively shaking with the need to laugh.

“Is it just me, or does everyone in this room want to fuck this guy?”

“You included?” Jim grinned, lifting his beer and Spock’s drink.

“Har dee har har, jackass. If I’d have known how many women he would lure, I would have asked him long before you started dating him.”

“For the last fucking time, we are not--”

“What did you get him after?”

“Oh! Saurian brandy. It’s the strongest stuff they’ve got. Think it’ll work?”

“Hey heads up, that girl that was at the bar is making a pass at him already.” Jim’s head whipped around and McCoy swore loudly. “Fuck, that’s a good pint you’re spillin’ everywhere!”

Kirk and McCoy arrived at the table just in time to hear the girl attempting to close the deal in a most forward fashion:

“You know, I did my Master’s thesis in Xenobiology on the subject matter of Vulcan Biology.” She extended her index and middle finger to Spock, whose eyes flickered with the ghost of an expression that could only be identified as mildly affronted. “I assure you, I could cater to you better than any other woman in this room.”

“While I do not doubt your skill or knowledge on the matter of biology, I believe you are in error if you believe that Vulcans deviate from the human mating tradition of actively seeking an ideal partner on the basis of compatibility.”

“Is that what you think humans do?” She leaned forward against the table, inattentive to Spock’s drink, which he moved gingerly in a prudish fashion. “That’s cute. Are you telling me I’m not your type?”

“You have offered me an intimate gesture in place of your name. You may be well versed in Vulcan biology, but you have certainly proven yourself to be amateur at best in your knowledge of Vulcan cultural practices.”

The girl delivered a disarming smile while resting her elbows on the table, then retrieved a slip of paper from her purse. She scrawled something on it and then reaffixed her gaze to the Vulcan.  

“Well if you’d like to help improve my knowledge, here’s my number.” She slipped the piece of paper under the bowl in front of Spock, winked, and slipped away again into the crowd, her girlfriends exploding in excited laughter as she returned. Spock seemed entirely undeterred by the encounter, offering no semblance of a reaction other than reaching into the bowl and picking up another chocolate almond.

“Wow.” McCoy snuffed. “So we’re not even going to talk about that sweet little number you just swept under a rug?”

“I would prefer not.” Spock said mildly, and then looked down almost accusingly when he reached into the bowl again to find it empty. “I have consumed this confectionary in its entirety. I regret that I reserved none for your return.” As a waitress passed by McCoy held out the bowl, which was whisked away promptly.

“Is this bothering you?” Jim queried, looking around the room and noticing the alarming amount of people that were just blatantly staring at their table. “We don’t have to stay if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“To what do you refer that may render me uncomfortable?” Spock asked, taking the bowl right out of McCoy’s hands when the waitress returned with more almonds.

“Jim. Someone flirted with him. It’s normal. He doesn’t need an adult.”

“Indeed, and I am marginally inebriated, therefore I find my social and cultural discomforts significantly reduced.”

“You haven’t even tried the drink I brought you yet, though.”

“I have consumed a notable quantity of chocolate almonds.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jim snorted.

“Do you mean to tell me Vulcans get shit faced off of almonds?”

“You have erred in your assessment. It is not the nut, but the encasement that is the inebriant.”

McCoy and Jim looked incredulous in unison.

“Vulcans get drunk off of chocolate?!” Jim shouted, and McCoy started cackling.

“Well that’s just re-God-damn-diculous -- Hey, quit hogging!” Bones scowled, snatching the bowl back from the Vulcan and popping a few of the candies into his mouth. He received the tiniest of eye narrows from the Vulcan. A young Asian man suddenly passed close to the table and offered up a smiling wink in Spock’s direction, to which both humans seemed dazed for a moment, watching the man drift back into the throng. Spock used the opportunity to steal back the bowl, hiding it under the table in his laps.

“Jesus, Spock. They’re surrounding you like flies. You need a swatter for all this unwanted attention? Or does someone here catch your eye?” Bones asked, turning toward Spock, who paused mid-chew as not to rouse suspicion. He swallowed and reached for the brandy that Jim had brought him.

“In no way have I heeded this unwanted attention.” Spock said calmly and took a sip. “I find their brash method of approach to be rather crude and unflattering on their part. If I desired their company, I would actively seek and engage them.”

“Seek and engage, eh?” McCoy winked and leaned forward to wiggle his brows at an Orion girl with long blonde tresses of curls who was positively devouring Spock with her eyes. She gave McCoy a sneering grin, flipped her hair and began chatting with the other girls at her table.

“What is it? Is it the ears?” McCoy pinched an ear point at which Spock recoiled slightly and leered.

“Please, control yourself and refrain from molesting me.”

“If I wanted to molest you, believe me, you’d know it.” McCoy said with wide-eyed assurance, tipping the glass back until all that remained were ice cubes. “Now tell me. What do they find so irresistible about you?”

Jim could only grin helplessly, too curious to stop this conversation from happening. Spock shook his head curtly.

“I am of the belief that it is not an appeal in aesthetics. It may be curiosity in my species, for we are known to be reclusive and remain within our culture when seeking a mate. To some, that challenge proves appealing. However, the majority of these individuals know me in some manner, or my relations. I would ascertain that they merely estimate that my reputation and rank would be an asset to them; an aid in furthering their careers at the fleet.”

“So what you’re telling me is you’re a pussy magnet.”

“Bones-” Jim hissed, clapping the older man hard against the ear.

“Ow, shit for brains!”

“I am unfamiliar with this term.” Spock said simply, sipping again from his tumbler. Kirk and Bones just looked at each other and exploded in laughter.

“Which one, pussy magnet, or shit for brains?” Bones enquired.

“Both.”

“Ah, fuck Jim, this is like Christmas! Then riddle me this . . .” Bones wiggled forward again, and Jim was wondering to himself if he should stop him before this went too far. Should he? “Say if you were to approach someone at this bar tonight. Would they be male, or female?”

Kirk nearly choked on his sip of beer. Spock turned to McCoy for a moment before returning to his brandy. Then he offered up a level response:

“I am consistently perplexed by the divisionary mentality of your kind. Why must humans painstakingly categorize that which need not be labelled, thereby shuffling individuals into small exclusionary groups? Gender and sexuality are irrelevant in determining compatibility with another individual. If one wishes to reproduce, there are a plethora of methods at their disposal. Why does your kind cling to archaic and complicated perceptions? Attraction and compatibility simply exist. Over time once ample data is collected one can determine if there is a sufficient amount of either to develop an intimate relationship. It is futile to debate why, or to limit oneself based on such inapt facades. Such limitations may hinder ones potential to find the most agreeable partner due to societal preconceptions of attraction. However I digress. Your kind often overcomplicates processes that are simple and logical with unchecked emotionalism. How humans ever find a mate is beyond me. On my planet this complicated process is often aided by arranged marriages which eliminate the time consuming process of testing compatibility with an agreement that is mutually beneficial to both families. ”

McCoy and Jim just stared, slack jawed. Kirk’s face was positively red. McCoy hailed the waitress for another drink.

“So what you’re telling me is, everyone on Vulcan is a bisexual?”

“Again, you are viewing my kind through a human lens.” Spock nodded, finishing his own drink. “Vulcans do not have this fixation with categorizing each member of society into a narrow and meaningless array of titles. It is a gross misuse of time which could be better used for greater purposes. On Vulcan, compatibility exists to an extent between individuals or it does not. The depth or breed of affection is determined by lineage or time accrued with those outside the family. One chooses a mate based on compatibility or a mate is chosen by the family for mutual benefit. There is nothing more.”

McCoy lifted a finger, having received his beer and was in the process of putting a dent in it. He was ready to retaliate when a dark haired man cast a shadow over their tables.

“Well look who decided to stop going down on the professors long enough to grab a drink.”

Spock, who had been consumed in the debate with McCoy and who was patiently awaiting the response, did not even realize that someone was talking to him. Jim was out of his seat in an instant and it took Spock a moment to acknowledge this human ritual of intimidation. The dark haired man cast an incredulous look at Kirk.

“What Jim, is this one seriously a friend of yours? I don’t have beef with you.”

Kirk’s eyes were afire, and he stood as rigid as marble.

“You will if you don’t move along, Stiles.”

Spock promptly stood, joining Jim’s side with hands folded behind his back.

“I know nothing of you, nor do I comprehend your quarrel. Elaborate.”

“Well I sure as hell know you. I know that you became a Commander faster than any one who has ever enlisted in Starfleet. You think that’s a coincidence?” The man wore an unkind grin. Jim was now staring between the two. The Vulcan did not seem fazed.

“Coincidence sir? I believe not. Starfleet demands unwavering dedication to one’s studies, a comprehension of all fieldwork criteria, as well as a GPA of--”

“Yeah, Starfleet does demand that of the rest of us. All it took for you was having a rich daddy with ties to the federation. Do you have any idea how much that pisses the rest of us off?”

“I am perplexed by what the implications are when you state ‘the rest of us’ as I see only yourself offering this confrontational point of view.”

“Perhaps I’m the only one with the balls to say it.”

Spock raised a brow. “Indeed. Then if you truly believe that Starfleet is as corrupt as you suggest and that political influence surpasses academic performance at the academy, I am unsure as to why you would seek a career in a fleet that engages in such unethical behaviour.”

“Then you admit it!” The man slammed his glass down and took Spock by the collar. “You would flaunt that in my face?”

“That’s enough!” Jim spat, reaching to grasp the wrist of the hand that Stiles had latched to Spock’s collar, but the Vulcan merely put up a hand to halt the interference.

“I flaunt nothing but my work ethic and loyalty to the federation which I have dedicated my life’s work to. I suggest you spend less time resenting the accomplishments of others and usurp that time to improve your own performance.”

“You smug piece of shit!” Stiles hissed, infuriated, readying a fist for Spock’s face.

Jim leapt to intervene but halted in puzzlement as Spock seemed to merely place a hand on Stile’s shoulder. Stiles slumped to the ground while slinging his fist once lazily, achieving one limp punch that met a table leg.

Kirk and Bones were both standing now, agape, and Spock picked Stiles up and handed him off to the friends who had been lurking in the background, watching the spectacle.

“He will require rest. As he has been rendered unconscious for the time being, it would be wise for you to return him to his dormitory.”

The small cluster of plebes just stared wide eyed at Spock as he dumped Stiles’ still form off on them. They scurried out swiftly, casting worried glances behind them, as if Spock might sneak up and pull the same technique on them.

“Did you see that?” Bones was actually grasping Jim’s arms above the elbows. “He looked dead, Jim. I mean Spock just-”

“Gentlemen.” Spock’s voice broke their excited reverie as he inclined his head at them, grabbing his coat up from their table, and headed for the exit. Bones and Kirk just looked at each other for a beat, then scrambled to collect their things, with McCoy quickly slamming back the drink left at the table as Jim raced on ahead of him to chase Spock. Kirk stopped briefly, looking back in irritation to growl:

  
“BONES!”

“I’m coming I’m – Jesus, I’m not lettin’ my pint go to waste, Jim.”

\--

“Spock wait, **_wait_**!”

Jim had caught up to the Vulcan, who was moving like a sleek reed of darkness between the lights of the lampposts, on a steady course for home. Spock said nothing as Jim fell into step with him. McCoy eventually joined Spock’s other side, huffing with the effort of catching up.

“Well are you going to tell me what the hell that was? The fight ended before it even started!” Jim exclaimed.

“That gentleman was publicly humiliating himself. It was fitting to bring an end to the theatrics before the situation escalated. It is curious how quick your kind is to dramatize.”

“He was no gentleman.” McCoy scoffed. “Stop dancing around, what was that thing you did, with the-”McCoy reached out and pinched Spock where his neck met his shoulder, earning him a dull glare of disapproval. Spock daintily picked McCoy’s fingers off and kept walking.

“I do not like to discuss my customs with outworlders.”

“Um . . . after you just gave us a huge speech on Vulcan dating rituals? Come on. You just knocked an outworlder the fuck out. With a God damn pinch. What was that? Seriously. Medically explain this to me, I’ve never seen anything like that!”

“It is known as the Vulcan nerve pinch. It is a defensive technique handed down over centuries by my ancestors as a peaceful means of protection. It is the safest way to immediately disarm and render an opponent submissive without bringing harm to either party.”

“But how do you do it?!” McCoy egged. “Do it on me, show me how it’s done.”

Spock delivered a mildly bemused glance.

“If it were that easy a technique to master, you would have seen it performed long before now. In any case, you would require the strength of a Vulcan to perform it.”

“Are you saying we’re too weak to do the Vulcan death grip?”

“Nerve pinch. And yes, that is exactly what I wish to convey.”

\--  
“Are we going to chill out before we head back?” Jim commented, to which Spock raised a brow.

“What is ‘chill’?”

“Here’s as good a place as any.” McCoy said gruffly and threw himself down in the darkened, wide field of grass. Jim joined him, and Spock simply stared down.

“To chill is to lie in the dirt?”

“In the grass, you idiot. It ain’t dirt.” McCoy scoffed, and patted a spot between himself and Jim. “Come and relax, Jesus. It’s been some night.”

Reluctantly, the Vulcan settled himself stiffly between them.  

The three lid on the grass in the darkness, staring up into the open sky which opened up like a sublime canvas before them.

Kirk seemed to lean into it, drinking it in and eager.

McCoy scowled up at the bright unblinking eyes like unwelcome voyeurs.

Neither could read Spock’s gaze, who simply took it in with quiet reflection.

“Well, that’s our fate in a few years, boys.” McCoy sighed. “Fuck. Don’t ever get married. Look where it gets you. Shot out into space.”

“You don’t ever get curious about what’s out there?” Jim kept his eyes trained to the heavens.

“I get curious about the many ways that people can come apart out there, and how many creative ways I can conjure up to piece them back together.”

“That is grotesque.” Jim glared.

“That’s my job. Being grotesque.”

“What about you Spock? Did you ever look at the stars as a kid?” Jim turned to look at the Vulcan, who silently stared up at the sky, inwardly beguiled.

“Always.” He responded quietly.

“Why?”

The Vulcan was silent for a long time.

“It is of no consequence.”

Jim made himself comfortable again on the grass, eyes reaffixing to the stars, and fanned his hand out.

“When I was a kid in Iowa, my brother and I used to go out in the fields. We used to do this” he stretched his fingers apart as far as he could and closed one eye to inspect the stars between each one. “We used to ask each other ‘what do you think’s between my fingers?’ And we used to make up what aliens might live there. What would they look like? What would they be made of? What kinds of things do we do here that we think is normal that they’d find offensive or gross? Like, would we get arrested on their planet for having pets because it could be considered slavery there? Or what if a handshake or a wave was a huge insult?”

McCoy was guffawing at this point.

“Well, Jim’s getting transcendental.  He’s had enough to drink.”

“Shut up, Bones.”

The two were too busy snickering and passing McCoy’s near empty flask to notice Spock staring sidelong, eyes enraptured, watching Jim’s face, reflecting on his words.

_I, too._

A memory came to Spock in the night air like a fragrance; of lying out in the desert sands outside his house, using I-Chaya as a body pillow, and fanning his hand out against the sky. He was imagining the many planets and creatures between his fingers, and he was nearly crippled inside by a sense of longing. He desired escape. He thirsted for knowledge. If only he could get there, explore the stars, satiate his curiosity to get to know every plant, every face, every ritual and tradition, to absorb as much knowledge of the outside as possible, and maybe along the way . . . surely. In a quiet human corner of his mind, he dared to feverishly hope. Of all those many cultures and races, languages and species out there . . . there had to be someone out there for him. In all the thousands of stars and planets, there had to be at least one friend out there waiting for him. Some friendly soul, some welcome place that could make him feel less alone, less an outsider . . .

“Spock.” His father’s voice froze his insides, stole him from his reverie. He had been caught ‘day dreaming’ again, as his mother had called it.

“Father.” He stood, head slightly down in a show of respect, hands clasped behind his back.

“One must utilize their time effectively, not waste it engaged in idle pass times.”

“Yes, father.”

“Your curiosity can prove to be both blessing and curse. Use it to further yourself in the Vulcan teachings. Your academic abilities are sufficient, but too often I find you preoccupied in that which is irrelevant. The stars will forever be there, Spock. Long after you and I. But there is work to be done. If you ever hope to learn more about what lies beyond there, you must dedicate your body and mind to your studies. Then perhaps you will be admitted to the Vulcan Science Academy, and every text and research paper will be at your disposal to satiate your curiosity for what lies beyond our planet. You will come inside. Your mother has concocted the necessary nourishment for this evening.”

Sarek turned silently and went back inside. Spock stared after him, and then dared to look back up at those brilliant lights once more, a defiance burning in his chest. Text books, papers, words handed down from the experiences, the lives of others . . . they were dead, cold things to him. He had drunk so fully from the cups of others, and he desired more. His thirst still ached. He wanted a cup of his own. He wanted to live experiences himself, first hand, not vicariously through the writings of others. How dull a life that sounded, to dedicate one’s life to never living, only feeding off the existence of others like a lamprey. He felt that curiosity and longing kindling with that flame of defiance, and he felt a thrill when he put his hand back up again, knowing his father might catch him. That was the moment of change. From there he had begun tending to the path he would cut for himself, albeit it was grueling and difficult work. He would work hard every day, do as they asked, as they expected, so that one day perhaps he could break free. He would escape this suffocating mold he so agonizingly could not, did not want to stuff himself into. . .

“Spock, are you alright?” Jim’s lighthearted voice broke Spock from his reverie, and he did not realize he had been holding his hand out, staring at those unblinking lights between his long, slender fingers. McCoy had been handing him the flask. The Vulcan merely put his hand out in decline, then reached into his pocket and attained two chocolate almonds.

“You stole almonds from the bar? Gimme some!” McCoy snarled, and Jim laughed at the violated expression on Spock’s face as Bones stuffed a hand into Spock’s pocket.

\--

The three made it up to the front door of Spock’s chalet, the two humans with significantly more difficulty than the Vulcan.

“Well, it was quite an adventure, Spock, I’ve got to say.” McCoy clapped Spock on the shoulder, who merely stepped back from the contact and unlocked his door. McCoy lurched forward and Jim caught him, sliding his arms about McCoy’s shoulders and placing a hand on his stomach to support him.

“Sorry about this, he always takes it a little too far. Hope tonight wasn’t too disturbing for you.”

“Don’t you apologize for me!” McCoy crowed. Spock’s eyes mildly crinkled, and the corners of his lips twitched.

“The evening was not disagreeable.”

“So you’re saying it was agreeable.” McCoy pointed a finger at the Vulcan and then at Jim. “Y’see? He’s into it. He – he’s alright. Stop being a mother hen. Get your hands off me.”

Kirk just stood there in dull bemusement, not even holding Bones at this point. McCoy was hanging on to him for support.

“I better get him home before he pukes on your doorstep.” Jim sighed, circling his arms around Bones again as he began lilting from side to side. Spock’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked slightly puzzled.

“Puke?”

“I’ll uh, I’ll explain later. Um, I’m probably going to be a mess tomorrow morning so . . . no gym but yes tutoring?”

“Indeed. I shall meet with you tomorrow evening at the allotted time.” Spock nodded.

“You want to walk to class together?”

“You are such a little girl.”

“Can you shut up please?”

“I shall be there.” Spock was trying not to let his entertainment show as the two moved haphazardly off his doorstep, Jim attempting to right them as Bones lurched toward a bush before straightening.

“Watch out, Spock!” McCoy called loudly, waving a hand behind him. “Watch out because Gary gets back from the Intergalactic Exchange Program tomorrow and then we’re both done for.”

“Bones, will you please-”

“Gary?” Spock queried, stepping back out of the door for a moment, positively riddled with curiosity.

“Oh yeah!” McCoy twirled around, nearly sending Jim face first onto the grass. “Jim’s other other best friend. Or other other boyfriend.”

“We’re not-”

“They’ve been apart for three months! Jim is going to be all over the guy-”

“You are literally screaming at two in the morning **on campus**.”

“-you and I will be seeing a lot of each other from now on.” McCoy gave a little wave, and Jim put a hand to his face, attempting to muster some semblance of patience.

“I’m so sorry about this, he is really drunk. Goodnight, Spock.”

“Goodnight, Jim.”

But Spock didn’t go inside.

He was just standing there, watching as the two disappeared into the darkness as they staggered across campus, and a boulder had settled into Spock’s insides against his will.

_. . . Gary?_

\--

“Why did you tell him about Gary like that?” 

“Why not? He should be ready for it. You forget about everyone when Gary is around.”

“I do not!”

“You do too, and in the worst way possible. Gary is a bad influence on you.”

“Oh and you’re not?” Jim's eyes were positively accusatory as Bones mustered the best drunken face of offense he could muster. 

“I’m certainly not. I can’t decide who would get you into more trouble. Gary or that Vulcan. Though we only went drinking with Spock once, and just that one time, he almost got you in a fist fight.”

“Oh come on, that wasn’t his fault.”

“That’s what’s so weird about it. I have never seen someone stir the pot so violently through indifference at a bar in my life. He is a complete shit disturber, and he barely has to raise an eyebrow to do it.”

“So I take it that you’re going to ban me from ever taking Spock to the bar with us again.”

“Fuck no.” McCoy cackled, stumbling over the steps to get up to the dormitory wing. “Are you kidding me, man? That’s the most fun I’ve ever had in a bar in my life.”

“I was afraid you’d like him.”

“I don’t.” McCoy shrugged. “He’s freakishly calm. It’s like nothing fazes the guy. He’s like watching some guy in a car crash and everyone around him is freaking out but he just gets out, dusts himself off, and walks away like nothing happened. It’s infuriating. What would it take to make him snap? It’s like the universe descended to try to rile him tonight, and he never bit once. Does he think he’s better than us? It’s not human.”

“He’s not human.”

“Exactly. It was like something on National Geographic. I couldn’t fucking look away.”

“I think you like Spock. Admit it. You couldn’t stop talking to him all night.”

“I think **you** like Spock, and therefore I have to hate him.”

“You don’t have to hate all my friends, Bones.”

“I do if they’re better than me.” McCoy grinned, and Kirk gave him a sidelong, shit-eating smirk.

“Then you’ll have to hate all of them.”

“You little shit.” McCoy smacked the back of Jim’s head with a loud crack. Their cackling echoed down the sparsely populated, dark halls of the academy in the earliest hours of morning.

\---


End file.
